StoriesinLightandShadowBretHarte

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"UNSERKARL"UNCLEJIMANDUNCLEBILLYSEEYUPTHEDESBOROUGHCONNECTIONSSALOMYJANE'SKISSTHEMANANDTHEMOUNTAINTHEPASSINGOFENRIQUEZ

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"UNSERKARL"

TheAmericanconsulforSchlachtstadthadjustturnedoutofthebroadKonig'sAlleeintothelittlesquarethatheldhisconsulate.Itsresidencesalwaysseemedto him to wear that singularly uninhabited air peculiar to a street scene in atheatre.Thefacades,withtheirstiff,stripedwoodenawningsoverthewindows,were of the regularity, color, and pattern only seen on the stage, andconversationcarriedon in the streetbelowalways seemed tobe investedwiththat perfect confidence and security which surrounds the actor in his painteddesert of urbanperspective.Yet itwas a peaceful change to the other bywaysandhighwaysofSchlachtstadtwhichwerealwaysfilledwithanequallyunrealandmechanical soldiery,whoappeared tobedaily takenoutof theirboxesof"caserne" or "depot" and loosely scattered all over the pretty linden-hauntedGerman town. Therewere soldiers standing on street corners; soldiers staring

woodenlyintoshopwindows;soldiershaltedsuddenlyintostone,likelizards,attheapproachofOffiziere;Offiziere loungingstiffly fourabreast, sweeping thepavementwiththeirtrailingsabresallatoneangle.Therewerecavalcadesofredhussars,cavalcadesofbluehussars,cavalcadesofUhlans,withglitteringlancesandpennons—withorwithoutaband—formallyparading;therewerestraggling"fatigues"or"details"comingroundthecorners;thereweredusty,businesslikecolumns of infantry, going nowhere and to no purpose.And they one and allseemed to be WOUND UP—for that service—and apparently always in thesameplace.Inthebandoftheircaps—invariablyofonepattern—wasabutton,inthecentreofwhichwasasquareopeningorkeyhole.Theconsulwasalwaysconvinced that through thiskeyholeopening,bymeansofakey, thehumblestcaporalwound up his file, theHauptmann controlled his lieutenants and non-commissionedofficers,andeventhegeneralhimself,wearingthesamecap,wassubject through his cap to a higher moving power. In the suburbs, when thesupply of soldiers gave out, therewere sentry-boxes;when these dropped off,therewere"caissons,"orcommissarywagons.And,lestthemilitaryideashouldever fail from out the Schlachtstadt's burgher's mind, there were police inuniform, street-sweepers in uniform; the ticket-takers, guards, and sweepers attheBahnhofwere inuniform,—butallwearing thesamekindofcap,with theprobabilityofhavingbeenwoundupfreshlyeachmorningfortheirdailywork.Even thepostmandeliveredpeaceful invoices to theconsulwithhis side-armsandtheairofbringingdispatchesfromthefieldofbattle;andtheconsulsaluted,andfeltforafewmomentsthewholeweightofhisconsularresponsibility.

Yet,inspiteofthismilitaryprecedence,itdidnotseemintheleastinconsistentwith thedecidedlypeacefulcharacterof the town,and thisagain suggested itsutter unreality; wandering cows sometimes got mixed up with squadrons ofcavalry, and did not seem to mind it; sheep passed singly between files ofinfantry,orprecededtheminaflockwhenonthemarch;indeed,nothingcouldbe more delightful and innocent than to see a regiment of infantry in heavymarchingorder,ladenwitheveryconceivablethingtheycouldwantforaweek,returning after a cheerful search for an invisible enemy in the suburbs, tobivouacpeacefullyamong thecabbages in themarket-place.Nobodywaseverimposed upon for a moment by their tremendous energy and severe display;drums might beat, trumpets blow, dragoons charge furiously all over theExercierPlatz,orsuddenlyflashtheirnakedswordsinthestreetstothegutturalcommand of an officer—nobody seemed to mind it. People glanced up torecognize Rudolf orMax "doing their service," nodded, and went about theirbusiness.Andalthoughtheofficersalwaysworetheirside-arms,andatthemost

peacefulofsocialdinnersonlyrelinquishedtheirswordsinthehall,apparentlythattheymightbereadytobucklethemonagainandrushouttodobattlefortheFatherland between the courses, the other guests only looked upon theseweaponsinthelightofsticksandumbrellas,andpossessedtheirsoulsinpeace.And when, added to this singular incongruity, many of these warriors werespectacled, studious men, and, despite their lethal weapons, wore a slightlyprofessionalair,andwere—toaman—deeplysentimentalandsingularlysimple,theirattitudeinthiseternalKriegspielseemedtotheconsulmorepuzzlingthanever.

As he entered his consulate he was confronted with another aspect ofSchlachtstadt quite as wonderful, yet already familiar to him. For, in spite ofthese "alarumswithout,"which, however, never seem to penetrate beyond thetownitself,Schlachtstadtanditssuburbswereknownallovertheworldforthemanufacturesofcertainbeautifultextilefabrics,andmanyoftherankandfileofthose warriors had built up the fame and prosperity of the district over theirpeaceful looms in wayside cottages. There were great depots and counting-houses,largerthaneventhecavalrybarracks,wherenootheruniformbutthatofthepostmanwasknown.Henceitwasthattheconsul'schiefdutywastoupholdthe flag of his own country by the examination and certification of diversinvoices sent to his office by the manufacturers. But, oddly enough, thesebusinessmessengerswerechieflywomen,—notclerks,butordinaryhouseholdservants,and,onbusydays,theconsulatemighthavebeenmistakenforafemaleregistryoffice,sofilledandpossesseditwasbywaitingMadchen.HereitwasthatGretchen,Lieschen,andClarchen,inthecleanestofbluegowns,andstoutlybutsmartlyshod,broughttheirinvoicesinapieceofcleanpaper,orfoldedinablue handkerchief, and laid them, with fingers more or less worn and stubbyfromhardservice,beforetheconsulforhissignature.Once,inthecaseofaveryyoungMadchen,thatsignaturewasblottedbythesweepofaflaxenbraiduponit as the child turned to go; but generally therewas a grave, serious businessinstinct and sense of responsibility in these girls of ordinary peasant originwhich, equally with their sisters of France, were unknown to the English orAmericanwomanofanyclass.

That morning, however, there was a slight stir among those who, with theirknitting,werewaitingtheirturnintheouterofficeasthevice-consulusheredthepolice inspector into the consul's privateoffice.Hewas inuniform,of course,andittookhimamomenttorecoverfromhishabitualstiff,militarysalute,—alittlestifferthanthatoftheactualsoldier.

Itwasamatterofimportance!Astrangerhadthatmorningbeenarrestedinthetownandidentifiedasamilitarydeserter.HeclaimedtobeanAmericancitizen;hewasnowintheouteroffice,waitingtheconsul'sinterrogation.

The consul knew, however, that the ominous accusation had only a mildsignificance here. The term "military deserter" included any one who had inyouthemigratedtoaforeigncountrywithoutfirstfulfillinghismilitarydutytohisfatherland.Hisfirstexperiencesofthesecaseshadbeentediousanddifficult,— involving a reference to hisMinister at Berlin, a correspondence with theAmericanStateDepartment, a condition of unpleasant tension, and finally theprolongeddetentionofsomeinnocentGerman—naturalized—Americancitizen,who had forgotten to bring his papers with him in revisiting his own nativecountry. It so chanced, however, that the consul enjoyed the friendship andconfidenceoftheGeneralAdlerkreutz,whocommandedthe20thDivision,anditfurtherchancedthatthesameAdlerkreutzwasasgallantasoldierasevercriedVorwarts!attheheadofhismen,asprofoundamilitarystrategistandorganizerasevercarriedhisownandhisenemy'splansinhisironheadandspikedhelmet,andyetwithassimpleandunaffectedasoulbreathingunderhisgraymustacheas ever issued from the lips of a child. So this grim but gentle veteran hadarrangedwiththeconsulthatincaseswherethepresumptionofnationalitywasstrong,althoughtheevidencewasnotpresent,hewouldtaketheconsul'sparolefortheappearanceofthe"deserter"orhispapers,withouttheaidofprolongeddiplomacy. In this way the consul had saved to Milwaukee a worthy butimprudentbrewer,and toNewYorkanexcellentsausagebutcherandpossiblealderman; but had returned tomartial duty one or two tramps or journeymenwhohadneverseenAmericaexceptfromthedecksof theships inwhichtheywere"stowaways,"andonwhichtheywerereturned,—andthusthetemperandpeaceoftwogreatnationswerepreserved.

"Hesays,"said the inspectorseverely,"thathe isanAmericancitizen,buthaslosthisnaturalizationpapers.YethehasmadethedamagingadmissiontoothersthathelivedseveralyearsinRome!And,"continuedtheinspector,lookingoverhisshoulderatthecloseddoorasheplacedhisfingerbesidehisnose,"hesayshe has relations living at Palmyra,whom he frequently visited.Ach!Observethisunheard-of-and-not-to-be-trustedstatement!"

The consul, however, smiled with a slight flash of intelligence. "Let me seehim,"hesaid.

Theypassedintotheouteroffice;anotherpolicemanandacorporalofinfantrysaluted and rose. In the centre of an admiring and sympathetic crowd ofDienstmadchen sat the culprit, the least concerned of the party; a stripling—aboy—scarcelyoutofhisteens!Indeed,itwasimpossibletoconceiveofamoreinnocent,bucolic,andalmostangeliclookingderelict.Withaskinthathadthepeculiarwhiteandrosinessoffreshpork,hehadblueeyes,celestiallywideopenandstaring,andthethickflocculentyellowcurlsofthesungod!HemighthavebeenanovergrownandbadlydressedCupidwhohadinnocentlywanderedfromPaphianshores.Hesmiledastheconsulentered,andwipedfromhisfullredlipswith the back of his hand the traces of a sausage he was eating. The consulrecognized the flavor at once,—he had smelled it before in Lieschen's littlehand-basket.

"Yousayyou livedatRome?"began theconsulpleasantly. "Didyou takeoutyourfirstdeclarationofyourintentionofbecominganAmericancitizenthere?"

The inspector cast an approvingglance at the consul, fixed a stern eyeon thecherubicprisoner,andleanedbackinhischair tohear thereplytothis terriblequestion.

"Idon'tremember,"saidtheculprit,knittinghisbrowsininfantinethought."Itwaseitherthere,oratMadridorSyracuse."

The inspectorwasabout to rise; thiswas really triflingwith thedignityof themunicipality.Buttheconsullaidhishandontheofficial'ssleeve,and,openinganAmericanatlastoamapoftheStateofNewYork,saidtotheprisoner,asheplaced the inspector's hand on the sheet, "I see you know the names of theTOWNSontheErieandNewYorkCentralRailroad.But"—

"I can tell you the number of people in each town and what are themanufactures,"interruptedtheyoungfellow,withyouthfulvanity."Madridhassixthousand,andthereareoversixtythousandin"—

"Thatwilldo," said theconsul,asamurmurofWunderschon!went round thegroup of listening servant girls, while glances of admiration were shot at thebeamingaccused."Butyououghttorememberthenameofthetownwhereyournaturalizationpaperswereafterwardssent."

"ButIwasacitizenfromthemomentImademydeclaration,"saidthestrangersmiling,andlookingtriumphantlyathisadmirers,"andIcouldvote!"

The inspector, since he had come to grief over American geographicalnomenclature, was grimly taciturn. The consul, however, was by no meanscertain of his victory.His alleged fellow citizenwas too encyclopaedic in hisknowledge: a clever youthmight have crammed for this with a textbook, butthenhe did notLOOKat all clever; indeed, he had rather the stupidity of themythologicalsubjectherepresented."Leavehimwithme,"saidtheconsul.Theinspector handed him a precis of the case. The cherub's name was KarlSchwartz, an orphan, missing from Schlachtstadt since the age of twelve.Relations not living, or in emigration. Identity established by prisoner'sadmissionandrecord.

"Now,Karl,"saidtheconsulcheerfully,asthedoorofhisprivateofficecloseduponthem,"whatisyourlittlegame?HaveyouEVERhadanypapers?AndifyouwerecleverenoughtostudythemapofNewYorkState,whyweren'tyoucleverenoughtoseethatitwouldn'tstandyouinplaceofyourpapers?"

"Dot's joost it," saidKarl in English; "but you see dot if I haf declairetmineintentionofbegommingacitizen,it'sallthesame,don'tit?"

"Bynomeans, foryou seem tohavenoevidenceof theDECLARATION;nopapersatall."

"Zo!" saidKarl. Nevertheless, he pushed his small, rosy, pickled-pig's-feet offingersthroughhisfleecycurlsandbeamedpleasantlyattheconsul."Dot'svot'sdermatter,"hesaid,asiftakingakindlyinterestinsomeprivatetroubleoftheconsul's."Dot'svereyouvos,eh?"

The consul looked steadily at him for a moment. Such stupidity was by nomeansphenomenal,noratallinconsistentwithhisappearance."And,"continuedtheconsulgravely,"Imusttellyouthat,unlessyouhaveotherproofsthanyouhaveshown,itwillbemydutytogiveyouuptotheauthorities."

"DotmeansIshallservemytime,eh?"saidKarl,withanunchangedsmile.

"Exactlyso,"returnedtheconsul.

"Zo!" said karl. "Dese town—dose Schlachtstadt—is fine town, eh? Finevomens.Gootmen.Undbeerundsausage.Blenty toeatanddrink,eh?Und,"lookingaroundtheroom,"youandtepoyshafagaytimes."

"Yes,"saidtheconsulshortly,turningaway.ButhepresentlyfacedroundagainontheunfetteredKarl,whowasevidentlyindulginginagormandizingreverie.

"Whatonearthbroughtyouhere,anyway?"

"Wasitdas?"

"WhatbroughtyouherefromAmerica,orwhereveryouranawayfrom?"

"Toseeder,volks."

"ButyouareanORPHAN,youknow,andyouhavenofolkslivinghere."

"ButallShermany isminevolks,—dewholegountry,don't it?Petyourpoots!How'sdot,eh?"

TheconsulturnedbacktohisdeskandwroteashortnotetoGeneralAdlerkreutzinhisownAmericanGerman.Hedidnotthinkithisdutyinthepresentcasetointerfere with the authorities or to offer his parole for Karl Schwartz. But hewould claim that, as theoffenderwas evidently an innocent emigrant and stillyoung,anypunishmentormilitarydegradationbeomitted,andhebeallowedtotakehisplacelikeanyotherrecruitintheranks.Ifhemighthavethetemeritytotheundoubted,far-seeingmilitaryauthorityofsuggestionmakinghere,hewouldsuggestthatKarlwasforthecommissariatfitted!Ofcourse,hestillretainedtheright,onproductionofsatisfactoryproof,hisdischargetoclaim.

Theconsul read thisaloud toKarl.Thecherubicyouthsmiledandsaid, "Zo!"Then,extendinghishand,headdedtheword"Zshake!"

Theconsulshookhishandalittleremorsefully,and,precedinghimtotheouterroom, resigned himwith the note into the inspector's hands. A universal sighwentupfromthegirls,andglancesofappealsought theconsul;buthewiselyconcluded that it would be well, for a while, that Karl—a helpless orphan—shouldbeundersomesortofdiscipline!Andthesecurerbusinessofcertifyinginvoicesrecommenced.

Latethatafternoonhereceivedafoldedbitofbluepaperfromthewaistbeltofanorderly,whichcontainedinEnglishcharactersandasasingleword"Alright,"followed by certain jagged pen-marks, which he recognized as Adlerkreutz'ssignature.Butitwasnotuntilaweeklaterthathelearnedanythingdefinite.He

wasreturningonenighttohislodgingsintheresidentialpartofthecity,and,inopening the door with his pass-key, perceived in the rear of the hall hishandmaidenTrudschen,attendedbytheusualblueoryelloworredshadow.Hewaspassingbythemwiththelocal'n'Abend!onhislipswhenthesoldierturnedhisfaceandsaluted.Theconsulstopped.ItwasthecherubKarlinuniform!

But it had not subdued a single one of his characteristics. His hair had beencropped a little more closely under his cap, but there was its color andwoollinessstillintact;hisplumpfigurewasgirtbybeltandbuttons,butheonlylooked the more unreal, and more like a combination of pen-wiper andpincushion, until his puffy breast and shoulders seemed to offer a positiveinvitation toanyonewhohadpickedupapin.But,wonderful!—according tohisbriefstory—hehadbeensoproficientinthegoosestepthathehadbeenputin uniform already, and allowed certain small privileges,—among them,evidently the present one. The consul smiled and passed on. But it seemedstrangetohimthatTrudschen,whowasatallstrappinggirl,exceedinglypopularwith the military, and who had never looked lower than a corporal at least,shouldaccepttheattentionsofanEinjahrigerlikethat.Laterheinterrogatedher.

Ach!itwasonlyUnserKarl!AndtheconsulknewhewasAmerikanisch!

"Indeed!"

"Yes!Itwassuchatearfulstory!"

"Tellmewhatitis,"saidtheconsul,withafainthopethatKarlhadvolunteeredsomecommunicationofhispast.

"AchGott!There inAmericahewasaman,andcould 'vote,'make laws,and,Godwilling,becomea towncouncilor,—orOber Intendant,—andherehewasnothing but a soldier for years. And this America was a fine country.Wunderschon? There were such big cities, and one 'Booflo'—could hold allSchlachtstadt,andhadofpeoplefivehundredthousand!"

Theconsulsighed.KarlhadevidentlynotyetgotoffthelineoftheNewYorkCentralandErieroads."Butdoesherememberyetwhathedidwithhispapers?"saidtheconsulpersuasively.

"Ach!WhatdoeshewantwithPAPERSwhenhecouldmake the laws?Theyweredumb,stupidthings—thesepapers—tohim."

"Buthisappetiteremainsgood,Ihope?"suggestedtheconsul.

Thisclosedtheconversation,althoughKarlcameonmanyothernights,andhistoyfigurequitesupplantedthetallcorporalofhussarsintheremoteshadowsofthe hall. One night, however, the consul returned home from a visit to aneighboringtownadayearlierthanhewasexpected.Ashenearedhishousehewasalittlesurprisedtofindthewindowsofhissitting-roomlitup,andthattherewere no signs of Trudschen in the lower hall or passages. He made his wayupstairs in the dark and pushed open the door of his apartment. To hisastonishment,Karlwassittingcomfortablyinhisownchair,hiscapoffbeforeastudent-lampon the table,deeplyengaged inapparent study.Soprofoundwashisabstractionthatitwasamomentbeforehelookedup,andtheconsulhadagood look at his usually beaming and responsive face, which, however, nowstruckhimaswearing a singular air of thought and concentration.When theireyesat lastmet,herose instantlyandsaluted,andhisbeamingsmilereturned.But, either from his natural phlegm or extraordinary self-control he betrayedneitherembarrassmentnoralarm.

Theexplanationhegavewasdirectandsimple.TrudschenhadgoneoutwiththeCorporalFritzforashortwalk,andhadaskedhimto"keephouse"duringtheirabsence.He had no books, no papers, nothing to read in the barracks, and nochancetoimprovehismind.HethoughttheHerrConsulwouldnotobjecttohislookingathisbooks.Theconsulwastouched;itwasreallyatrivialindiscretionandasmuchTrudschen'sfaultasKarl's!Andifthepoorfellowhadanymindtoimprove,—his recent attitude certainly suggested thought and reflection,—theconsul were a brute to reprove him. He smiled pleasantly as Karl returned astubby bit of pencil and some greasy memoranda to his breast pocket, andglancedat the table.But tohis surprise itwasa largemap thatKarlhadbeenstudying,and,tohisstillgreatersurprise,amapoftheconsul'sowndistrict.

"Youseemtobefondofmap-studying,"saidtheconsulpleasantly."Youarenotthinkingofemigratingagain?"

"Ach,no!"saidKarlsimply;"itismycousinevothaflifnearhere.Ifindher."

ButheleftonTrudschen'sreturn,andtheconsulwassurprisedtoseethat,whileKarl'sattitudetowardsherhadnotchanged,thegirlexhibitedlesseffusivenessthanbefore.Believingittobepartlytheeffectofthereturnofthecorporal,theconsultaxedherwithfaithlessness.ButTrudschenlookedgrave.

"Ah!Hehasnewfriends,thisKarlofours.Hecaresnomoreforpoorgirlslikeus.When fine ladies like theoldFrauvonWimpfelmakemuchof him,whatwillyou?"

It appeared, indeed, from Trudschen's account, that the widow of a wealthyshopkeeper had made a kind of protege of the young soldier, and given himpresents.Furthermore, that thewifeofhiscolonelhademployedhimtoactaspageorattendantatanafternoonGesellschaft,andthatsincethenthewivesofotherofficershadsoughthim.DidnottheHerrConsulthinkitwasdreadfulthatthis American, who could vote and make laws, should be subjected to suchthings?

Theconsuldidnotknowwhattothink.Itseemedtohim,however,thatKarlwas"getting on," and that he was not in need of his assistance. It was in theexpectationofhearingmoreabouthim,however,thathecheerfullyacceptedaninvitation fromAdlerkreutz to dine at theCaserne one eveningwith the staff.Herehefound,somewhattohisembarrassment,thatthedinnerwaspartlyinhisownhonor,andatthecloseoffivecourses,andtheemptyingofmanybottles,hishealthwasproposedbythegallantveteranAdlerkreutzinaneataddressofmanysyllablescontainingallthepartsofspeechandasingleverb.Itwastotheeffect that inhis soul-friend theHerrConsulandhimselfwas thenever-to-be-severed union of Germania and Columbia, and in their perfect understandingwasthewar-defyingallianceoftwogreatnations,andthatintheconsul'snoblerestorationofUnserKarltotheGermanarmytherewastheastutediplomacyofagreatmind.HewassatisfiedthathimselfandtheHerrConsulstillunitedinthegreatfuture,lookingdownuponacommonbrotherhood,—thegreatGermanic-AmericanConfederation,—wouldfeelsatisfiedwiththemselvesandeachotherandtheirnever-to-be-forgottenearth-labors.Criesof"Hoch!Hoch!"resoundedthrough the apartment with the grinding roll of heavy-bottomed beer-glasses,andtheconsul,tremulouswithemotionandareserveverbinhispocket,rosetoreply.Fullyembarkeduponthisperilousvoyage,andsteeringwideandclearofanytreacherousshoreofintelligenceorfanciedharborofunderstandingandrest,hekeptboldlyoutatsea.Hesaidthat,whilehislovingadversaryinthisbattleofcompliment haddisarmedhimand left himnowords to reply to his generouspanegyric, he could not but join with that gallant soldier in his heartfeltaspirations for the peaceful alliance of both countries. But while he fullyreciprocated all his host's broader and higher sentiments, hemust point out tothis gallant assembly, this glorious brotherhood, that even a greater tie ofsympathyknittedhimtothegeneral,—thetieofkinship!Forwhileitwaswell

known to the present company that their gallant commander had married anEnglishwoman,he,theconsul,althoughalwaysanAmerican,wouldnowforthefirst time confess to them that he HIMSELF was of Dutch descent on hismother'sside!Hewouldsaynomore,butconfidentlyleavetheminpossessionof the tremendous significance of this until-then-unknown fact! He sat down,with the forgotten verb still in his pocket, but the applause that followed thisperfectly conclusive, satisfying, and logical climax convinced him of hissuccess.Hishandwasgraspedeagerlybysuccessivewarriors;thegeneralturnedand embraced him before the breathless assembly; there were tears in theconsul'seyes.

Asthefestivitiesprogressed,however,hefoundtohissurprisethatKarlhadnotonly become the fashion as a military page, but that his naive stupidity andsublime simplicity was the wondering theme and inexhaustible delight of thewhole barracks. Stories were told of his genius for blundering which rivaledHandy Andy's; old stories of fatuous ignorance were rearranged and fitted to"ourKarl." It was "ourKarl" who, on receiving a tip of twomarks from thehands of a young lady to whom he had brought the bouquet of a gallantlieutenant, exhibited some hesitation, and finally said, "Yes, but, gnadigesFraulein, that COST us nine marks!" It was "our Karl" who, interrupting theregretsofanotherladythatshewasunabletoaccepthismaster'sinvitation,saidpolitely,"Ah!whatmatter,Gnadigste?IhavestillaletterforFrauleinKopp[herrival], and Iwas told that Imust not invite you both." Itwas "ourKarl"whoastonished thehostess towhomhewassentat the lastmomentwithapologiesfrom an officer, unexpectedly detained at barrack duty, by suggesting that heshouldbring thatunfortunateofficerhisdinner from the just served table.Norwere these charming infelicities confined to his social and domestic service.Although ready,mechanical, and invariably docile in themanual and physicaldutiesof a soldier,—whichendearedhim to theGermandrill-master,—hewasstill invincibly ignorantas to itspurport,or even themeaningandstructureofthemilitaryinstrumentshehandledorvacantlylookedupon.Itwas"ourKarl"whosuggestedtohisinstructorsthatinfield-firingitwasquickerandeasiertoloadhismuskettothemuzzleatonce,andgetridofitsdeath-dealingcontentsata single discharge, than to load and fire consecutively. Itwas "ourKarl"whonearly killed the instructor at sentry drill by adhering to the letter of hisinstructions when that instructor had forgotten the password. It was the sameKarlwho,severelyadmonishedforhisrecklessness, thenexttimeaddedtohischallengetheprecaution,"Unlessyouinstantlysay'Fatherland'I'llfire!"Yethisperfectgoodhumor andchildlike curiositywereunmistakable throughout, and

incited his comrades and his superiors to showhim everything in the hope ofgettingsomecharacteristiccommentfromhim.EverythingandeverybodywereopentoKarlandhisgood-humoredsimplicity.

Thatevening,as thegeneralaccompanied theconsuldownto thegatewayandthe waiting carriage, a figure in uniform ran spontaneously before them andshouted"Heraus!"tothesentries.Butthegeneralpromptlychecked"theturningout"oftheguardwithapaternalshakeofhisfingertotheover-zealoussoldier,inwhomtheconsulrecognizedKarl."HeismyBurschenow,"saidthegeneralexplanatorily."Mywifehastakenafancytohim.Ach!heisverypopularwiththese women." The consul was still more surprised. The Frau GeneralinAdlerkreutz he knew to be a pronounced Englishwoman,—carrying out herEnglish ways, proprieties, and prejudices in the very heart of Schlachtstadt,uncompromisingly,withoutfearandwithoutreproach.Thatsheshouldfollowamerely foreignsocietycraze,oralterherEnglishhouseholdsoas toadmit theimpossibleKarl,struckhimoddly.

Amonthor twoelapsedwithout furthernewsofKarl,whenone afternoonhesuddenly turnedupat theconsulate.Hehadagainsought theconsularquiet towriteafewlettershome;hehadnochanceintheconfinementofthebarracks.

"But by this time you must be in the family of a field-marshal, at least,"suggestedtheconsulpleasantly.

"Not to-day, but nextweek," saidKarl,with sublime simplicity; "THEN I amgoingtoservewiththegovernorcommandantofRheinfestung."

Theconsulsmiled,motionedhimtoaseatatatableintheouteroffice,andlefthimundisturbedtohiscorrespondence.

Returninglater,hefoundKarl,hislettersfinished,gazingwithchildishcuriosityand admiration at some thick official envelopes, bearing the stamp of theconsulate, which were lying on the table. He was evidently struck with thecontrastbetweenthemandthethin,flimsyaffairshewasholdinginhishand.Heappearedstillmoreimpressedwhentheconsultoldhimwhattheywere.

"Arc you writing to your friends?" continued the consul, touched by hissimplicity.

"Achja!"saidKarleagerly.

"Would you like to put your letter in one of these envelopes?" continued theofficial.

ThebeamingfaceandeyesofKarlwereasufficientanswer.Afterall,itwasasmall favorgranted to thisoddwaif,who seemed to still cling to theconsularprotection. He handed him the envelope and left him addressing it in boyishpride.

ItwasKarl'slastvisittotheconsulate.Heappearedtohavespokentruly,andtheconsulpresentlylearnedthathehadindeedbeentransferred,throughsomehighofficialmanipulation, to the personal service of the governor ofRheinfestung.Therewasweeping among theDienstmadchen of Schlachtstadt, and a distinctlossoforiginalityandlightnessinthegatheringsofthegentlerHausfrauen.Hismemory still survived in the barracks through the later editions of his formerdelightfulstupidities,—manyof them, it is tobefeared,were inventions,—andstories thatwere supposed tohave come fromRheinfestungweredescribed inthe slang of the Offiziere as being "colossal." But the consul rememberedRheinfestung, and could not imagine it as a home for Karl, or in any wayfostering his peculiar qualities. For itwas eminently a fortress of fortresses, amagazine of magazines, a depot of depots. It was the key of the Rhine, thecitadel of Westphalia, the "Clapham Junction" of German railways, butdefended, fortified, encompassed, and controlled by the newest aswell as theoldest devices of military strategy and science. Even in the pipingest time ofpeace,wholerailwaytrainswentintoitlikearatinatrap,andmighthavenevercome out of it; it stretched out an inviting hand and arm across the river thatmight in the twinklingofaneyebechanged intoaclosedfistofmenace.You"defiled"intoit,commandedateverystepbyenfiladingwalls;you"debouched"out of it, as you thought, and found yourself only before the walls; you"reentered" it at every possible angle; you did everything apparently but passthroughit.Youthoughtyourselfwelloutofit,andwerestoppedbyabastion.Itscircumvallationshauntedyouuntilyoucametothenextstation.Ithadpressedeventhecurrentoftheriverintoitsdefensiveservice.Thereweresecretsofitsfoundationsandmines thatonly thehighestmilitarydespotsknewandkept tothemselves.Inaword—itwasimpregnable.

That such a place could not be trifledwith ormisunderstood in its right-and-acute-angledseveritiesseemedplaintoeveryone.Butsetonbyhiscompanions,whowere showinghim itsdefensive foundations,or inhisown idle curiosity,Karl managed to fall into the Rhine and was fished out with difficulty. The

immersionmay have chilled hismilitary ardor or soured his good humor, forlater the consul heard that he had visited the American consular agent at anadjacenttownwiththeoldstoryofhisAmericancitizenship."Heseemed,"saidthe consul's colleague, "to be well posted about American railways andAmericantowns,buthehadnopapers.Heloungedaroundtheofficeforawhileand"—

"Wrotelettershome?"suggestedtheconsul,withaflashofreminiscence.

"Yes,thepoorchaphadnoprivacyatthebarracks,andIreckonwasoverlookedorbedeviled."

ThiswasthelasttheconsulheardofKarlSchwartzdirectly;foraweekortwolaterheagainfellintotheRhine,thistimesofatallyandeffectuallythatinspiteof the efforts of his companionshewas swept awayby the rapid current, andthusendedhisservicetohiscountry.Hisbodywasneverrecovered.

A fewmonthsbefore theconsulwas transferred fromSchlachtstadt to anotherposthismemoryofthedepartedKarlwasrevivedbyavisitfromAdlerkreutz.Thegenerallookedgrave.

"YourememberUnserKarl?"hesaid.

"Yes."

"Doyouthinkhewasanimpostor?"

"AsregardshisAmericancitizenship,yes!ButIcouldnotsaymore."

"So!"saidthegeneral."Averysingularthinghashappened,"headded,twirlinghismustache. "The Inspector of police has notified us of the arrival of aKarlSchwartz in this town. Itappearshe is theREALKarlSchwartz, identifiedbyhissisterastheonlyone.Theother,whowasdrowned,wasanimpostor.Hein?"

"Thenyouhavesecuredanotherrecruit?"saidtheconsulsmilingly.

"No.ForthisonehasalreadyservedhistimeinElsass,wherehewentwhenheleft here as a boy. But, Donnerwetter, why should that dumb fool take hisname?"

"By chance, I fancy. Then he stupidly stuck to it, and had to take theresponsibilitieswith it.Don't you see?" said the consul, pleasedwith his owncleverness.

"Zo-o!" said the general slowly, in his deepest voice. But the Germanexclamation has a variety of significance, according to the inflection, andAdlerkreutz'sejaculationseemedtocontainthemall.

......

Itwas inParis,where theconsulhad lingeredonhisway tohisnewpost.Hewas sitting inawell-knowncafe, amongwhosehabitueswere severalmilitaryofficersofhighrank.Agroupofthemweregatheredroundatablenearhim.Hewas idlywatching themwithanodd recollectionofSchlachtstadt inhismind,and as idlyglancing from them to themore attractiveBoulevardwithout.Theconsulwasgettingalittletiredofsoldiers.

Suddenlytherewasaslightstirinthegesticulatinggroupandacryofgreeting.The consul looked up mechanically, and then his eyes remained fixed andstaring at the newcomer. For it was the dead Karl; Karl, surely! Karl!—hisplump figure belted in a French officer's tunic; his flaxen hair clipped a littlecloser,butstillitsfleeceshowingunderhiskepi.Karl,hischeeksmorecherubicthan ever—unchanged but for a tiny yellow toymustache curling up over thecorners of his full lips. Karl, beaming at his companions in his old way, butrattling off French vivacitieswithout the faintest trace of accent. Could he bemistaken?Wasitsomephenomenalresemblance,orhadthesouloftheGermanprivatebeentransmigratedtotheFrenchofficer.

The consul hurriedly called the garcon. "Who is that officer who has justarrived?"

"It is the Captain Christian, of the Intelligence Bureau," said thewaiter, withproudalacrity."Afamousofficer,braveasarabbit,—unfierlapin,—andoneofour best clients. So drole, too, such a farceur and mimic. M'sieur would beravishedtohearhisimitations."

"ButhelookslikeaGerman;andhisname!"

"Ah,heisfromAlsace.ButnotaGerman!"saidthewaiter,absolutelywhiteningwithindignation."HewasatBelfort.SowasI.MonDieu!No,athousandtimes

no!"

"Buthashebeenlivingherelong?"saidtheconsul.

"In Paris, a fewmonths. But his Department,M'sieur understands, takes himEVERYWHERE!Everywherewherehecangaininformation."

The consul's eyes were still on the Captain Christian. Presently the officer,perhapsinstinctivelyconsciousofthescrutiny,lookedtowardshim.Theireyesmet. To the consul's surprise, the ci-devant Karl beamed upon him, andadvancedwithoutstretchedhand.

Buttheconsulstiffenedslightly,andremainedsowithhisglassinhishand.Atwhich Captain Christian brought his own easily to amilitary salute, and saidpolitely:—

"MonsieurleConsulhasbeenpromotedfromhispost.Permitmetocongratulatehim."

"Youhaveheard,then?"saidtheconsuldryly.

"Otherwise I shouldnotpresume.ForourDepartmentmakes itabusiness—inMonsieurleConsul'scaseitbecomesapleasure—toknoweverything."

"DidyourDepartmentknowthattherealKarlSchwartzhasreturned?"saidtheconsuldryly.

CaptainChristian shruggedhis shoulders. "Then it appears that the shamKarldied none too soon," he said lightly. "And yet"—he bent his eyes withmischievousreproachupontheconsul.

"Yetwhat?"demandedtheconsulsternly.

"MonsieurleConsulmighthavesavedtheunfortunatemanbyacceptinghimasanAmericancitizenandnothelpingtoforcehimintotheGermanservice."

Theconsulsawinaflash thefullmilitarysignificanceof this logic,andcouldnot repress a smile. At which Captain Christian dropped easily into a chairbesidehim,andaseasilyintobrokenGermanEnglish:—

"Und," he went on, "dees town—dees Schlachtstadt is fine town, eh? Finewomens?Gootmen?Undpeer and sausage?Blenty to eat and trink, eh?Undyouundtepoyshafagaytimes?"

Theconsultriedtorecoverhisdignity.Thewaiterbehindhim,recognizingonlythe delightful mimicry of this adorable officer, was in fits of laughter.Nevertheless,theconsulmanagedtosaydryly:—

"Andthebarracks,themagazines,thecommissariat,thedetails,thereservesofSchlachtstadtwereveryinteresting?"

"Assuredly."

"AndRheinfestung—itsplans—itsdetails,evenitsdangerousfoundationsbytheriver—theyweretoasoldiersingularlyinstructive?"

"Youhavereasontosayso,"saidCaptainChristian,curlinghislittlemustache.

"Andthefortress—youthink?"

"Imprenable!Mais"—

TheconsulrememberedGeneralAdlerkreutz's"Zo-o,"andwondered.

UNCLEJIMANDUNCLEBILLY

Theywerepartners.TheavunculartitlewasbestowedonthembyCedarCamp,possiblyinrecognitionofacertainmaturedgoodhumor,quitedistinctfromthespasmodicexuberantspiritsofitsothermembers,andpossiblyfromwhat,toitsyouthful sense, seemed their advanced ages—which must have been at leastforty!Theyhadalsosethabitsevenintheirimprovidence,lostincalculableandunpayablesumstoeachotherovereuchreregularlyeveryevening,andinspectedtheir sluice-boxes punctually every Saturday for repairs—which they nevermade. They even got to resemble each other, after the fashion of oldmarriedcouples, or, rather, as in matrimonial partnerships, were subject to thedominationofthestrongercharacter;althoughintheircaseitistobefearedthatit was the feminine Uncle Billy—enthusiastic, imaginative, and loquacious—who swayed the masculine, steady-going, and practical Uncle Jim. They had

livedinthecampsinceitsfoundationin1849;thereseemedtobenoreasonwhythey should not remain there until its inevitable evolution into amining-town.The younger members might leave through restless ambition or a desire forchange or novelty; they were subject to no such trifling mutation. Yet CedarCampwassurprisedonedaytohearthatUncleBillywasgoingaway.

The rain was softly falling on the bark thatch of the cabin with a muffledmurmur,likeasoundheardthroughsleep.Thesouthwesttradeswerewarmevenat that altitude, as the open door testified, although a fire of pine bark wasflickeringontheadobehearthandstrikingoutansweringfiresfromthefreshlyscoured culinary utensils on the rude sideboard,whichUncle Jimhad cleanedthatmorningwithhisusualseriouspersistency.Theirbestclothes,whichwereinterchangeableandwornalternatelybyeachotheronfestaloccasions,hungonthewalls,whichwerecoveredwithacoarsesailclothcanvasinsteadoflath-and-plaster,andwerediversifiedbypicturesfromillustratedpapersandstainsfromtheexteriorweather.Two"bunks,"likeships'berths,—anupperandlowerone,—occupied the gable-end of this single apartment, and on beds of coarsesacking,filledwithdrymoss,werecarefullyrolledtheirrespectiveblanketsandpillows. They were the only articles not used in common, and whoseindividualitywasrespected.

UncleJim,whohadbeensittingbefore the fire, roseas thesquarebulkofhispartnerappearedatthedoorwaywithanarmfulofwoodfortheeveningstove.Bythatsignheknewitwasnineo'clock:forthelastsixyearsUncleBillyhadregularlybroughtinthewoodatthathour,andUncleJimhadasregularlyclosedthe door after him, and set out their single table, containing a greasy pack ofcardstakenfromitsdrawer,abottleofwhiskey,andtwotindrinking-cups.Tothiswasaddedaraggedmemorandum-bookandastickofpencil.Thetwomendrewtheirstoolstothetable.

"Hol'onaminit,"saidUncleBilly.

HispartnerlaiddownthecardsasUncleBillyextractedfromhispocketapill-box,and,openingit,gravelytookapill.Thiswasclearlyaninnovationontheirregularproceedings,forUncleBillywasalwaysinperfecthealth.

"What'sthisfor?"askedUncleJimhalfscornfully.

"Aginager."

"You ain't got no ager," said Uncle Jim, with the assurance of intimatecognizanceofhispartner'sphysicalcondition.

"But it's apow'fulpreventive!Quinine!Saw thisboxatRiley's store, and laidoutaquarteron it.Wekinkeep ithere,comfortable, forevenings. It'smightysoothin'arteraman'sdoneahardday'sworkontheriver-bar.Takeone."

UncleJimgravelytookapillandswallowedit,andhandedtheboxbacktohispartner.

"We'llleaveitonthetable,sociablelike,incaseanyoftheboyscomein,"saidUncleBilly,takingupthecards."Well.Howdowestand?"

Uncle Jim consulted the memorandum-book. "You were owin' me sixty-twothousanddollarsonthelastgame,andthelimit'sseventy-fivethousand!"

"Jewhillikins!"ejaculatedUncleBilly."Letmesee."

Heexaminedthebook,feeblyattemptedtochallengetheadditions,butwithnoeffectonthetotal."Weoughterhevmadethelimitahundredthousand,"hesaidseriously;"seventy-fivethousandisonlytriflin'inagamelikeours.Andyou'vesetdownmyclaimatAngel's?"hecontinued.

"Iallowedyoutenthousanddollarsforthat,"saidUncleJim,withequalgravity,"andit'safancypricetoo."

The claim in question being an unprospected hillside tenmiles distant,whichUncle Jim had never seen, and Uncle Billy had not visited for years, thestatementwasprobablytrue;nevertheless,UncleBillyretorted:—

"Yekinnevertellhowthesethingswillpanout.Why,onlythismornin'Iwastaking a turn round ShotUpHill, that ye know is just rottenwith quartz andgold,andIcouldn'thelpthinkin'howmuchitwaslikemyoleclaimatAngel's.Imusttakeadayofftogoonthereandstrikeapickinit,ifonlyforluck."

Suddenlyhepausedandsaid,"Strange,ain't it,youshouldspeakofit tonight?NowIcallthatqueer!"

He laid down his cards and gazedmysteriously at his companion. Uncle Jimknew perfectly that Uncle Billy had regularly once a week for many years

declaredhisfinaldeterminationtogoovertoAngel'sandprospecthisclaim,yetneverthelesshehalfrespondedtohispartner'ssuggestionofmystery,andalookof fatuous wonder crept into his eyes. But he contented himself by sayingcautiously,"Youspokeofitfirst."

"That'sthemoresing'lar,"saidUncleBillyconfidently."AndI'vebeenthinkingaboutit,andkinderseeingmyselftharallday.It'smightyqueer!"Hegotupandbegantorummageamongsometornandcoverlessbooksinthecorner.

"Where'sthat'DreamBook'goneto?"

"TheCarsonboysborrowed it," repliedUncle Jim. "Anyhow,yourswasn't nodream—only a kind o' vision, and the book don't take no stock in visions."Nevertheless, he watched his partner with some sympathy, and added, "ThatremindsmethatIhadadreamtheothernightofbeingin'Friscoatasmallhotel,withheapso'money,andall thetimebeingsorto'scaredandbewilderedoverit."

"No?"queriedhispartnereagerlyyetreproachfully."Youneverletonanythingabout it toME!It'smightyqueeryouhavin' thesestrangefeelin's, for I'vehad'em myself. And only tonight, comin' up from the spring, I saw two crowshoppinginthetrail,andIsays,'IfIseeanother,it'sluck,sure!'Andyou'llthinkI'mlyin',butwhenIwenttothewood-pilejustnowtherewastheTHIRDonesittin'uponalogasplainasIseeyou.Tell'ewhatfolkskenlaugh—butthat'sjustwhatJimFilgeesawthenightbeforehemadethebigstrike!"

They were both smiling, yet with an underlying credulity and seriousness assingularly pathetic as it seemed incongruous to their years and intelligence.Smallwonder,however,thatintheiroccupationandenvironment—livingdailyin an atmosphere of hope, expectation, and chance, looking forward eachmorningtotheblindstrokeofapickthatmightbringfortune—theyshouldseesigns in nature and hearmystic voices in the tracklesswoods that surroundedthem. Still less strange that they were peculiarly susceptible to the morerecognizeddiversionsofchance,andweregamblersontheturningofacardwhotrustedtotherevelationofashovelfulofupturnedearth.

Itwasquitenatural,therefore,thattheyshouldreturnfromtheirabstractformofdivinationtothetableandtheircards.Buttheywerescarcelyseatedbeforetheyheardacracklingstepinthebrushoutside,andthefreelatchoftheirdoorwas

lifted.Ayoungermemberof thecampentered.Heutteredapeevish"Halloo!"whichmighthavepassed foragreeting,ormighthavebeenaslightprotestatfinding the door closed, drew the stool from which Uncle Jim had just risenbefore the fire, shookhiswetclothes likeaNewfoundlanddog,andsatdown.Yethewasbynomeanschurlishnorcoarse-looking,andthisactwasratheroneofeasy-going,selfish,youthfulfamiliaritythanofrudeness.ThecabinofUnclesBilly and Jim was considered a public right or "common" of the camp.Conferencesbetween individualminerswereappointed there. "I'llmeetyouatUncleBilly's"was a common tryst.Added to thiswas a tacit claim upon thepartners'arbitrativepowers,ortheequalrighttorequestthemtostepoutsideiftheinterviewswereofaprivatenature.Yettherewasneveranyobjectiononthepart of the partners, and tonight therewas not a shadowof resentment of thisintrusioninthepatient,good-humored,toleranteyesofUnclesJimandBillyasthey gazed at their guest. Perhaps therewas a slight gleam of relief inUncleJim'swhenhefoundthat theguestwasunaccompaniedbyanyone,andthat itwas not a tryst. It would have been unpleasant for the two partners to havestayedoutintherainwhiletheirguestswereexchangingprivateconfidencesintheircabin.Whiletheremighthavebeennolimittotheirgoodwill,theremighthavebeensometotheircapacityforexposure.

UncleJimdrewahugelogfrombesidethehearthandsatonthedriestendofit,whiletheirguestoccupiedthestool.Theyoungman,withoutturningawayfromhisdiscontented,peevishbroodingover thefire,vaguelyreachedbackwardforthewhiskey-bottle andUncleBilly's tin cup, towhich hewas assisted by thelatter'shospitablehand.Butonsettingdownthecuphiseyecaughtsightofthepill-box.

"Wot'sthat?"hesaid,withgloomyscorn."Ratpoison?"

"Quinine pills—agin ager," saidUncle Jim. "The newest thing out.Keeps outdamp like Injin-rubber! Take one to follow yerwhiskey.Me andUncleBillywouldn'tthinko'settin'down,quietlike,intheeveningarterwork,without'em.Takeone—ye'r'welcome!Wekeep'emoutherefortheboys."

Accustomedasthepartnersweretoadoptandweareachother'sopinionsbeforefolks,astheydideachother'sclothing,UncleBillywas,nevertheless,astonishedanddelightedatUncleJim'senthusiasmoverHISpills.Theguesttookoneandswallowedit.

"Mighty bitter!" he said, glancing at his hosts with the quick Californiansuspicionofsomepracticaljoke.Butthehonestfacesofthepartnersreassuredhim.

"Thatbitternessyetaste,"saidUncleJimquickly,"iswharthething'sgittin' initswork.Sortersickenin' themalaria—andkinderwater-proofin' theinsidesalltoonctandatthesamelick!Don'tyersee?Putanotherinyervestpocket;you'llbecryin'for'emlikeachildaforeyegethome.Thar!Well,how'sthingsagoin'onyourclaim,Dick?Boomin',eh?"

Theguestraisedhisheadandturneditsufficientlytoflinghisanswerbackoverhis shoulder at his hosts. "I don't know what YOU'D call' boomin','" he saidgloomily;"Isupposeyoutwomensittingherecomfortablybythefire,withoutcaringwhetherschoolkeepsornot,wouldcalltwofeetofbackwateroverone'sclaim 'boomin';' I reckonYOU'Dconsider a hundred and fifty feet of sluicingcarriedaway,anddriftingtothunderdowntheSouthFork,somethinginthewayofadvertisingtoyouroldcamp!IsupposeYOU'dthinkitwasaninducementtoinvestors!Ishouldn'twonder,"headdedstillmoregloomily,asasuddendashofraindownthewide-throatedchimneydroppedinhistincup—"anditwouldbejustlikeyoutwochaps,sittin'theregormandizingoveryourquinine—ifyersaidthisrainthat'slastedthreeweekswassomethingtobeproudof!"

It was the cheerful and the satisfying custom of the rest of the camp, for noreasonwhatever, toholdUncleJimandUncleBilly responsible for itspresentlocation, its vicissitudes, theweather, or any convulsion of nature; and itwasequally the partners' habit, for no reason whatever, to accept theseanimadversionsandapologize.

"It'sarainthat'ssoftandmellowin',"saidUncleBillygently,"andsupplin'tothesinews and muscles. Did ye ever notice, Jim"— ostentatiously to his partner—"did ye ever notice that you get inter a kind o' sweaty latherworkin' in it?Sorteropenin'tothepores!"

"Fetches'emeverytime,"saidUncleBilly."Betternorfancysoap."

Theirguestlaughedbitterly."Well,I'mgoingtoleaveittoyou.Ireckontocutthewholeconcernto-morrow,and'lite'outforsomethingnew.Itcan'tbeworsethanthis."

Thetwopartnerslookedgrieved,albeittheywereaccustomedtotheseoutbursts.

EverybodywhothoughtofgoingawayfromCedarCampuseditfirstasathreatto these patient men, after the fashion of runaway nephews, or made anexemplarysceneoftheirgoing.

"Betterthinktwiceaforeyego,"saidUncleBilly.

"I'veseenworseweatheraforeyecame,"saidUncleJimslowly."WaterallovertheBar; themudsodeepyecouldn'tget toAngel'sforasacko'flour,andwehad togrubonpinenutsand jackass-rabbits.Andyet—westuckby thecamp,andhereweare!"

Themild answer apparentlygoaded their guest to fury.He rose fromhis seat,threw back his long dripping hair from his handsome but querulous face, andscattereda fewdropson thepartners. "Yes, that's just it.That'swhatgetsme!Hereyoustick,andhereyouare!Andhereyou'llstickandrustuntilyoustarveordrown!Hereyouare,—twomenwhoought tobeout in theworld,playingyourpartasgrownmen,—stuckherelikechildren'playinghouse'inthewoods;playingwork inyourwretchedmud-pieditches, andcontent.Twomennot sooldthatyoumightn'tbetakingyourpartinthefunoftheworld,goingtoballsortheatres, or paying attention to girls, and yet old enough to havemarried andhaveyour familiesaroundyou,content to stay in thisGod-forsakenplace;oldbachelors, pigging together like poorhouse paupers. That's what getsme! SayyouLIKE it?Sayyouexpectbyhangingon tomakea strike—andwhatdoesthatamountto?WhatareYOURchances?Howmanyofushavemade,oraremaking,more thangrubwages?Sayyou'rewilling to shareandsharealikeasyoudo—haveyougotenoughfortwo?Aren'tyouactuallylivingoffeachother?Aren'tyougrindingeachotherdown,chokingeachother'sstruggles,asyousinktogetherdeeperanddeeper in themudof this cussedcamp?Andwhileyou'redoingthis,aren'tyou,byyourageandpositionhere,holdingouthopestoothersthatyouknowcannotbefulfilled?"

Accustomed as they were to the half-querulous, half-humorous, but alwaysextravagant, criticism of the others, there was something so new in thisarraignmentofthemselvesthatthepartnersforamomentsatsilent.TherewasaslightflushonUncleBilly'scheek, therewasaslightpalenessonUncleJim's.Hewasthefirsttoreply.Buthedidsowithacertaindignitywhichneitherhispartnernortheirguesthadeverseenonhisfacebefore.

"As it'sOUR fire that'swarmedyeup like this,DickBullen,"he said, slowly

rising,withhishandrestingonUncleBilly'sshoulder,"andasit'sOURwhiskeythat'sloosenedyourtongue,Ireckonwemustputupwithwhatye'r'saying,justaswe'vemanagedtoputupwithourownwayo'living,andnotquo'llwithyeunderourownroof."

TheyoungfellowsawthechangeinUncleJim'sfaceandquicklyextendedhishand,withanapologeticbackwardshakeofhislonghair."Hangitall,oldman,"hesaid,witha laughofmingledcontritionandamusement,"youmustn'tmindwhat I said just now. I'vebeen soworried thinkingof things aboutMYSELF,and,maybe, a little about you, that I quite forgot I hadn't a call to preach toanybody—leastofalltoyou.Sowepartfriends,UncleJim,andyoutoo,UncleBilly,andyou'llforgetwhatIsaid.Infact,Idon'tknowwhyIspokeatall—onlyIwaspassingyour claim just now, andwonderinghowmuch longeryouroldsluice-boxeswouldholdout,andwhere in thunderyou'dgetotherswhen theycavedin!Ireckonthatsentmeoff.That'sall,oldchap!"

UncleBilly'sfacebrokeintoabeamingsmileofrelief,anditwasHIShandthatfirstgraspedhisguest's;UncleJimquicklyfollowedwithashonestapressure,but with eyes that did not seem to be looking at Bullen, though all trace ofresentmenthaddiedoutofthem.Hewalkedtothedoorwithhim,againshookhands,but remained lookingout in thedarknesssome timeafterDickBullen'stangledhairandbroadshouldershaddisappeared.

Meantime,UncleBillyhadresumedhisseatandwaschucklingandreminiscentashecleanedouthispipe.

"KinderremindsmeofJoSharp,whenhewascleanedoutatpokerbyhisownpartnersinhisowncabin,comin'uphereandbedevilin'USaboutit!Whatwasityoulinthim?"

But Uncle Jim did not reply; and Uncle Billy, taking up the cards, began toshufflethem,smilingvaguely,yetatthesametimesomewhatpainfully."Arterall,Dickwasmightycutupaboutwhathesaid,andIfeltkindersorryforhim.And,youknow,Irathercottontoamanthatspeakshismind.Sorterclearshimout,youknow,ofalltheslumgullionthat'sinhim.It'sjustlikewashin'outapano'prospecting:youpourinthewater,andkeepslushingitroundandround,andoutcomesfirst themudanddirt,and then thegravel,and then theblacksand,andthen—it'sallout,andthere'saspecko'goldglistenin'atthebottom!"

"Then you think thereWAS suthin' in what he said?" said Uncle Jim, facingaboutslowly.

An odd tone in his voice made Uncle Billy look up. "No," he said quickly,shyingwiththeinstinctofaneasypleasure-lovingnaturefromapossiblegravesituation."No,Idon'tthinkheevergotthecolor!Butwotareyemoonin'aboutfor?Ain'tyegoin'toplay?It'smor''nhalfpastninenow."

Thusadjured,UncleJimmoveduptothetableandsatdown,whileUncleBillydealt the cards, turning up the Jack or right bower— but WITHOUT thatexclamation of delight which always accompanied his good fortune, nor didUncle Jim respond with the usual corresponding simulation of deep disgust.Suchacircumstancehadnotoccurredbeforeinthehistoryoftheirpartnership.They both played in silence—a silence only interrupted by a larger splash ofraindropsdownthechimney.

"Weorterputacoupleofstonesonthechimney-top,edgewise,likeJackCurtisdoes. It keeps out the rainwithout interferin'with the draft," saidUncleBillymusingly.

"What'stheuseif"—

"Ifwhat?"saidUncleBillyquietly.

"Ifwedon'tmakeitbroader,"saidUncleJimhalfwearily.

Theybothstaredatthechimney,butUncleJim'seyefollowedthewallaroundtothebunks.Thereweremanydiscolorationson thecanvas,andapictureof theGoddessofLibertyfromanillustratedpaperhadbrokenoutinakindofdamp,measlyeruption."I'llstickthatfunnyhandbillofthe'Washin'Soda'IgotatthegrocerystoretheotherdayrightovertheLibertygal.It'samightypertywomanwashin' with short sleeves," said Uncle Billy. "That's the comfort of thempicters,youkinalwaysgetsomethin'new,anditaddsthicknesstothewall."

UncleJimwentbacktothecardsinsilence.Afteramomentheroseagain,andhunghisovercoatagainstthedoor.

"Wind'scomin'in,"hesaidbriefly.

"Yes,"saidUncleBillycheerfully, "but itwouldn't seemnat'ral if therewasn't

thatcrackinthedoortoletthesunlightinomornin's.Makesakindo'sundial,youknow.Whenthestreako'light'sinthatcorner,Isays'sixo'clock!'whenit'sacrossthechimneyIsay'seven!'andso'tis!"

Itcertainlyhadgrownchilly,andthewindwasrising.Thecandlegutteredandflickered;theembersonthehearthbrightenedoccasionally,asiftryingtodispelthe gathering shadows, but always ineffectually. The game was frequentlyinterrupted by the necessity of stirring the fire.After an interval of gloom, inwhicheachpartnersuccessivelydrewthecandletohissidetoexaminehiscards,UncleJimsaid:—

"Say?"

"Well!"respondedUncleBilly.

"Areyousureyousawthatthirdcrowonthewood-pile?"

"SureasIseeyounow—andadarnedsightplainer.Why?"

"Nothin',Iwasjustthinkin'.Lookhere!Howdowestandnow?"

UncleBillywasstilllosing."Nevertheless,"hesaidcheerfully,"I'mowin'youamatterofsixtythousanddollars."

Uncle Jim examined the book abstractedly. "Suppose," he said slowly, butwithoutlookingathispartner,"suppose,asit'sgettin'latenow,weplayformyhalfshareoftheclaimaginthelimit—seventythousand—tosquareup."

"Yourhalfshare!"repeatedUncleBilly,withamusedincredulity.

"Myhalfshareoftheclaim,—ofthisyerhouse,youknow,—onehalfofallthatDickBullen calls our rotten starvation property," reiteratedUncle Jim,with ahalfsmile.

UncleBillylaughed.Itwasanovelidea;itwas,ofcourse,"allintheair,"liketherestof theirgame,yeteventhenhehadanoddfeelingthathewouldhavelikedDickBullentohaveknownit."Wadein,oldpard,"hesaid."I'monit."

Uncle Jim lit another candle to reinforce the fading light, and the deal fell toUncleBilly.HeturnedupJackofclubs.Healsoturnedalittleredderashetook

up his cards, looked at them, and glanced hastily at his partner. "It's no useplaying,"hesaid."Lookhere!"Helaiddownhiscardsonthetable.Theyweretheace,kingandqueenofclubs,andJackofspades,—orleftbower,—which,with the turned-up Jack of clubs,—or right bower,— comprised ALL thewinningcards!

"By jingo! If we'd been playin' four-handed, say you an'me agin some otherducks,we'dhavemade'four'inthatdeal,andh'istedsomemoney—eh?"andhiseyessparkled.UncleJim,also,hadaslighttremulouslightinhisown.

"Ohno!Ididn'tseenothreecrowsthisafternoon,"addedUncleBillygleefully,as his partner, in turn, began to shuffle the cards with laborious andconscientiousexactitude.Thendealing,he turnedupaheart for trumps.UncleBilly took up his cards one by one, but when he had finished his face hadbecomeaspaleas ithadbeenredbefore."What's thematter?"saidUncleJimquickly,hisownfacegrowingwhite.

UncleBillyslowlyandwithbreathlessawelaiddownhiscards,faceuponthetable. It was exactly the same sequence IN HEARTS, with the knave ofdiamondsadded.Hecouldagaintakeeverytrick.

Theystaredateachotherwithvacantfacesandahalf-drawnsmileoffear.Theycouldhearthewindmoaninginthetreesbeyond;therewasasuddenrattlingatthedoor.UncleBillystartedtohisfeet,butUncleJimcaughthisarm."DON'TLEAVE THE CARDS! It's only the wind; sit down," he said in a low awe-hushed voice, "it's your deal; youwere two before, and two now, thatmakesyourfour;you'veonlyonepointtomaketowinthegame.Goon."

Theybothpouredoutacupofwhiskey,smilingvaguely,yetwithacertainterrorin their eyes. Their hands were cold; the cards slipped from Uncle Billy'sbenumbedfingers;whenhehadshuffledthemhepassedthemtohispartnertoshuffle them also, but did not speak. When Uncle Jim had shuffled themmethodically he handed them back fatefully to his partner. Uncle Billy dealtthemwithatremblinghand.Heturnedupaclub."Ifyouaresureofthesetricksyou know you've won," said Uncle Jim in a voice that was scarcely audible.UncleBillydidnotreply,but tremulously laiddowntheaceandrightandleftbowers.

Hehadwon!

A feeling of relief came over each, and they laughed hysterically anddiscordantly. Ridiculous and childish as their contestmight have seemed to alooker-on,toeachthetensionhadbeenasgreatasthatofthegreatestgambler,without the gambler's trained restraint, coolness, and composure. Uncle Billynervouslytookupthecardsagain.

"Don't,"saidUncleJimgravely;"it'snouse—theluck'sgonenow."

"Justonemoredeal,"pleadedhispartner.

UncleJimlookedatthefire,UncleBillyhastilydealt,andthrewthetwohandsfaceuponthetable.Theyweretheordinaryaveragecards.Hedealtagain,withthesameresult."Itoldyouso,"saidUncleJim,withoutlookingup.

It certainly seemed a tame performance after theirwonderful hands, and afteranothertrialUncleBillythrewthecardsasideanddrewhisstoolbeforethefire."Mightyqueer,warn'tit?"hesaid,withreminiscentawe."Threetimesrunning.Doyouknow,Ifeltakindo'creepyfeelin'downmybackall thetime.Criky!what luck!Noneof theboyswouldbelieve it ifwe told 'em—least of all thatDickBullen,whodon'tbelieve in luck, anyway.Wonderwhathe'dhave said!and,Lord!howhe'dhavelooked!Wall!whatareyoustarin'sofor?"

Uncle Jim had faced around, and was gazing at Uncle Billy's good-humored,simpleface."Nothin'!"hesaidbriefly,andhiseyesagainsoughtthefire.

"Thendon'tlookasifyouwasseein'suthin'—yougivemethecreeps,"returnedUncleBillyalittlepetulantly."Let'sturnin,aforethefiregoesout!"

The fateful cardswere put back into the drawer, the table shoved against thewall.Theoperationofundressingwasquicklygotover, the clothes theyworebeingputontopoftheirblankets.UncleBillyyawned,"IwonderwhatkindofadreamI'llhavetonight—itoughterbesuthin'toexplainthatluck."Thiswashis"good-night"tohispartner.Inafewmomentshewassoundasleep.

NotsoUncleJim.Heheardthewindgraduallygodown,andintheoppressivesilencethatfollowedcoulddetect thedeepbreathingofhiscompanionandthefar-off yelp of a coyote. His eyesight becoming accustomed to the semi-darkness, brokenonlyby the scintillationof thedyingembersof their fire, hecould take in every detail of their sordid cabin and the rude environment inwhichtheyhadlivedsolong.Thedismalpatchesonthebarkroof,thewretched

makeshiftsofeachday,thedrearyprolongationofdiscomfort,wereallplaintohimnow,withoutthesanguinehopethathadmadethembearable.Andwhenheshuthiseyesuponthem,itwasonlytotravelinfancydownthesteepmountainsidethathehadtroddensooftentothedrearyclaimontheoverflowedriver,tothe heaps of "tailings" that encumbered it, like empty shells of the hollow,profitless days spent there, which they were always waiting for the stroke ofgoodfortune toclearaway.Hesawagain therotten"sluicing," throughwhosehopelessriftsandholeseventheirscantdailyearningshadbecomescantier.Atlast he arose, and with infinite gentleness let himself down from his berthwithout disturbing his sleeping partner, and wrapping himself in his blanket,wenttothedoor,whichhenoiselesslyopened.Fromthepositionofafewstarsthatwereglitteringinthenorthernskyheknewthatitwasyetscarcelymidnight;there were still long, restless hours before the day! In the feverish state intowhichhehadgraduallyworkedhimselfitseemedtohimimpossibletowaitthecomingofthedawn.

Buthewasmistaken.Forevenashestoodthereallnatureseemedtoinvadehishumble cabin with its free and fragrant breath, and invest him with its greatcompanionship.Hefeltagain,inthatbreath,thatstrangesenseoffreedom,thatmystictouchofpartnershipwiththebirdsandbeasts,theshrubsandtrees,inthisgreaterhomebeforehim.Itwasthisvaguecommunionthathadkepthimthere,thatstillheldtheseworld-sick,wearyworkersintheirrudecabinsontheslopesaroundhim;andhefeltuponhisbrowthatbalmthathadnightlylulledhimandthem to sleep and forgetfulness. He closed the door, turned away, crept asnoiselessly as before into his bunk again, and presently fell into a profoundslumber.

ButwhenUncleBillyawoke thenextmorninghesawitwas late; for thesun,piercing the crackof the closeddoor,was sending apencil of light across thecoldhearth,likeamatchtorekindleitsdeadembers.Hisfirstthoughtwasofhisstrange luck the night before, and of disappointment that he had not had thedream of divination that he had looked for. He sprang to the floor, but as hestooduprighthisglancefellonUncleJim'sbunk.Itwasempty.Notonlythat,buthisBLANKETS—UncleJim'sownparticularblankets—WEREGONE!

A sudden revelation of his partner's manner the night before struck him nowwiththecrueltyofablow;asuddenintelligence,perhapstheverydivinationhehadsought,flasheduponhimlikelightning!Heglancedwildlyaroundthecabin.The tablewasdrawnout fromthewalla littleostentatiously,as if tocatchhis

eye.Onitwaslyingthestainedchamois-skinpurseinwhichtheyhadkeptthefewgrainsofgoldremainingfromtheir lastweek's"cleanup."Thegrainshadbeen carefully divided, and half had been taken! But near it lay the littlememorandum-book, open,with the stick of pencil lying across it.Adeep linewasdrawnacross thepageonwhichwasrecordedtheir imaginaryextravagantgainsandlosses,eventotheentryofUncleJim'shalfshareoftheclaimwhichhehadriskedandlost!Underneathwerehurriedlyscrawledthewords:—

"SettledbyYOURluck,lastnight,oldpard.—JAMESFOSTER."

ItwasnearlyamonthbeforeCedarCampwasconvinced thatUncleBillyandUncle Jim had dissolved partnership. Pride had prevented Uncle Billy fromrevealinghissuspicionsofthetruth,orofrelatingtheeventsthatprecededUncleJim'sclandestineflight,andDickBullenhadgonetoSacramentobystage-coachthe samemorning.Hebrieflygaveout thathispartnerhadbeencalled toSanFranciscoonimportantbusinessoftheirown,that indeedmightnecessitatehisownremoval there later. In thishewassingularlyassistedbya letter fromtheabsent Jim, dated at San Francisco, begging him not to be anxious about hissuccess,ashehadhopesofpresentlyenteringintoaprofitablebusiness,butwithnofurtherallusionstohisprecipitatedeparture,noranysuggestionofareasonfor it.For twoor threedaysUncleBillywas staggeredandbewildered; inhisprofoundsimplicityhewonderedifhisextraordinarygoodfortunethatnighthadmadehimdeaftosomeexplanationofhispartner's,or,moreterrible,ifhehadshownsome"low"andincredibleintimationoftakinghispartner'sextravagantbet asREALandbinding. In thisdistresshewrote toUncle Jimanappealingand apologetic letter, albeit somewhat incoherent and inaccurate, and bristlingwith misspelling, camp slang, and old partnership jibes. But to this elaborateepistle he received only Uncle Jim's repeated assurances of his own brightprospects, and his hopes that his old partnerwould bemore fortunate, single-handed,ontheoldclaim.ForawholeweekortwoUncleBillysulked,buthisinvincibleoptimismandgoodhumorgotthebetterofhim,andhethoughtonlyof his old partner's good fortune. He wrote him regularly, but always to oneaddress—a box at the San Francisco post-office, which to the simple-mindedUncleBilly suggestedacertainofficial importance.To these lettersUncleJimrespondedregularlybutbriefly.

Fromacertainintuitiveprideinhispartnerandhisaffection,UncleBillydidnotshow these letters openly to the camp, althoughhe spoke freely of his formerpartner's promising future, and even read them short extracts. It is needless to

say that the camp did not accept Uncle Billy's story with unsuspectingconfidence. On the contrary, a hundred surmises, humorous or serious, butalwaysextravagant,wereafloatinCedarCamp.Thepartnershadquarreledovertheirclothes—UncleJim,whowastallerthanUncleBilly,hadrefusedtowearhispartner'strousers.Theyhadquarreledovercards—UncleJimhaddiscoveredthatUncleBillywasinpossessionofa"colddeck,"ormarkedpack.TheyhadquarreledoverUncleBilly's carelessness in grindinguphalf a boxof "biliouspills" in themorning's coffee.A gloomily imaginativemule-driver had darklysuggestedthat,asnoonehadreallyseenUncleJimleavethecamp,hewasstillthere,andhisboneswouldyetbefoundinoneoftheditches;whileastillmorecredulousmineraverredthatwhathehadthoughtwasthecryofascreech-owlthenightprevioustoUncleJim'sdisappearance,mighthavebeentheagonizedutteranceofthatmurderedman.Itwashighlycharacteristicofthatcamp—and,indeed, of others in California—that nobody, not even the ingenious theoriststhemselves,believedtheirstory,andthatnoonetooktheslightestpainstoverifyordisproveit.Happily,UncleBillyneverknewit,andmovedallunconsciouslyinthisatmosphereofburlesquesuspicion.Andthenasingularchangetookplaceintheattitudeofthecamptowardshimandthedisruptedpartnership.Hitherto,for no reasonwhatever, all had agreed to put the blame uponBilly—possiblybecause hewas present to receive it.As days passed that slight reticence anddejectioninhismanner,whichtheyhadatfirstattributedtoremorseandaguiltyconscience, now began to tell as absurdly in his favor. Here was poor UncleBillytoilingthoughtheditches,whilehisselfishpartnerwaslollinginthelapofluxuryinSanFrancisco!UncleBilly'sglowingaccountsofUncleJim'ssuccessonly contributed to the sympathy now fully given in his behalf and theirexecrationoftheabscondingpartner.ItwasproposedatBiggs'sstorethataletterexpressing the indignation of the camp over his heartless conduct to his latepartner,WilliamFall,shouldbeforwardedtohim.CondolenceswereofferedtoUncle Billy, and uncouth attempts were made to cheer his loneliness. Aprocession of half a dozenmen twice aweek to his cabin, carrying their ownwhiskeyandwindingupwitha"stagdance"beforethepremises,wassufficientto lighten his eclipsed gayety and remind him of a happier past. "Surprise"working parties visited his claimwith spasmodic essays towards helping him,andgreatgoodhumorandhilarityprevailed.Itwasnotanunusualthingforanhonestminer toarisefroman idlegathering insomecabinandexcusehimselfwith the remark that he "reckoned he'd put in an hour'swork inUncleBilly'stailings!" And yet, as before, it was very improbable if any of these recklessbenefactorsREALLYbelievedintheirownearnestnessorinthegravityofthesituation. Indeed, a kind of hopeful cynicism ran through their performances.

"Likeasnot,UncleBillyisstillin'cahoots'[i.e.,shares]withhisoldpard,andisjustlaughin'atusashe'ssendin'himaccountsofourtomfoolin'."

Andsothewinterpassedandtherains,andthedaysofcloudlessskiesandchillstarlitnightsbegan.TherewerestillfreshetsfromthesnowreservoirspiledhighintheSierranpasses,andtheBarwasflooded,butthatpassedtoo,andonlythesunshine remained. Monotonous as the seasons were, there was a faintmovementinthecampwiththestirringofthesapinthepinesandcedars.Andthen,oneday,therewasastrangeexcitementontheBar.Menwereseenrunninghitherandthither,butmainlygatheringinacrowdonUncleBilly'sclaim,thatstill retained the old partners' names in "The Fall and Foster." To add to theexcitement,therewasthequicklyrepeatedreportofarevolver,toallappearanceaimlesslyexplodedintheairbysomeoneontheoutskirtsoftheassemblage.Asthe crowd opened, Uncle Billy appeared, pale, hysterical, breathless, andstaggeringalittleundertheback-slappingandhand-shakingofthewholecamp.ForUncle Billy had "struck it rich"—had just discovered a "pocket," roughlyestimatedtobeworthfifteenthousanddollars!

Althoughinthatsuprememomenthemissedthefaceofhisoldpartner,hecouldnothelp seeing theunaffecteddelight andhappiness shining in the eyesof allwhosurroundedhim.Itwascharacteristicofthatsanguinebutuncertainlifethatsuccessandgood fortunebroughtno jealousynorenvy to theunfortunate,butwas rather a promise and prophecy of the fulfillment of their ownhopes.Thegoldwasthere—Naturebutyieldeduphersecret.Therewasnoprescribedlimitto her bounty. So strong was this conviction that a long-suffering but stillhopeful miner, in the enthusiasm of the moment, stooped down and patted alargeboulderwiththeapostrophic"Goodoldgal!"

Thenfollowedanightofjubilee,anextmorningofhurriedconsultationwithaminingexpertandspeculatorluredtothecampbythegoodtidings;andthentheverynextnight—totheutterastonishmentofCedarCamp—UncleBilly,withadraft for twenty thousand dollars in his pocket, started for SanFrancisco, andtookleaveofhisclaimandthecampforever!

......

When Uncle Billy landed at the wharves of San Francisco he was a littlebewildered.TheGoldenGatebeyondwasobliteratedby the incomingsea-fog,whichhad also roofed in thewhole city, and lights alreadyglittered along the

graystreetsthatclimbedthegrayersand-hills.AsaWesternman,broughtupbyinland rivers, hewas fascinated and thrilledby the tall-masted seagoing ships,andhefeltastrangesenseoftheremotermysteriousocean,whichhehadneverseen.Buthewasimpressedandstartledbysmartlydressedmenandwomen,thepassingofcarriages,andasuddenconvictionthathewasstrangeandforeigntowhathesaw.Ithadbeenhischerishedintentiontocalluponhisoldpartnerinhisworkingclothes,andthenclapdownonthetablebeforehimadraftfortenthousanddollarsasHISshareoftheiroldclaim.Butinthefaceofthesebrilliantstrangersasuddenandunexpectedtimiditycameuponhim.Hehadheardofacheappopularhotel,muchfrequentedbythereturninggold-miner,whoentereditshospitabledoors—whichheldaneasyaccesstoshops—andemergedinafewhours a gorgeous butterfly of fashion, leaving his old chrysalis behind him.Thencehe inquiredhisway; hencehe afterwards issued in garments glaringlynew and ill fitting. But he had not sacrificed his beard, and there was stillsomethingfineandoriginalinhishandsomeweakfacethatovercamethecheapconvention of his clothes. Making his way to the post-office, he was againdiscomfitedbythegreatsizeofthebuilding,andbewilderedbythearrayoflittlesquare letter-boxesbehindglasswhichoccupiedonewholewall, andanequalnumberofopaqueandlockedwoodenoneslegiblynumbered.Hisheartleaped;herememberedthenumber,andbeforehimwasawindowwithaclerkbehindit.UncleBillyleanedforward.

"Kinyoutellmeifthemanthatbox690b'longstoisin?"

The clerk stared,madehim repeat thequestion, and then turned away.Buthereturned almost instantly, with two or three grinning heads besides his own,apparently set behindhis shoulders.UncleBillywas again asked to repeathisquestion.Hedidso.

"Whydon'tyougoandseeif690isinhisbox?"saidthefirstclerk,turningwithaffectedasperitytooneoftheothers.

Theclerkwentaway,returned,andsaidwithsingulargravity,"Hewasthereamomentago,buthe'sgoneouttostretchhislegs.It'srathercrampin'atfirst;andhecan'tstanditmorethantenhoursatatime,youknow."

But simplicity has its limits.UncleBilly had alreadyguessed his real error inbelievinghispartnerwasofficiallyconnectedwith thebuilding;hischeekhadflushed and then paled again. The pupils of his blue eyes had contracted into

suggestive black points. "Ef you'll letme in at thatwinder, young fellers," hesaid,withequalgravity,"I'llshowyerhowIkinmakeYOUsmallenoughtogoin a box without crampin'! But I only wanted to know where Jim FosterLIVED."

Atwhichthefirstclerkbecameperfunctoryagain,butcivil."Aletterleftinhisboxwould get you that information," he said, "and here's paper and pencil towriteitnow."

UncleBillytookthepaperandbegantowrite,"Justgothere.Comeandseemeat"—Hepaused.Abrilliantideahadstruckhim;Hecouldimpressbothhisoldpartnerand theupstartsat thewindow;hewouldput in thenameof the latest"swell"hotel inSanFrancisco,saidtobeafairydreamofopulence.Headded"TheOriental,"andwithoutfoldingthepapershoveditinthewindow.

"Don'tyouwantanenvelope?"askedtheclerk.

"Put a stampon the corner of it," respondedUncleBilly, layingdowna coin,"andshe'llgothrough."Theclerksmiled,butaffixedthestamp,andUncleBillyturnedaway.

But it was a short-lived triumph. The disappointment at finding Uncle Jim'saddressconveyednoideaofhishabitationseemedtoremovehimfartheraway,andlosehisidentityinthegreatcity.Besides,hemustnowmakegoodhisownaddress, and seek rooms at the Oriental. He went thither. The furniture anddecorations, even in these early days of hotel-building in SanFrancisco,wereextravagantandoverstrained,andUncleBillyfeltlostandlonelyinhisstrangesurroundings.Buthetookahandsomesuiteofrooms,paidfortheminadvanceon the spot, and then, half frightened, walked out of them to ramble vaguelythrough the city in the feverish hope ofmeeting his old partner. At night hisinquietude increased; he could not face the long row of tables in the pillareddining-room, filled with smartly dressed men and women; he evaded hisbedroom, with its brocaded satin chairs and its gilt bedstead, and fled to hismodestlodgingsattheGoodCheerHouse,andappeasedhishungeratitscheaprestaurant, in the company of retired miners and freshly arrived Easternemigrants.Twoorthreedayspassedthusinthisquaintdoubleexistence.ThreeorfourtimesadayhewouldenterthegorgeousOrientalwithaffectedeaseandcarelessness,demandhiskeyfromthehotel-clerk,askfortheletterthatdidnotcome, go to his room, gaze vaguely from his window on the passing crowd

belowforthepartnerhecouldnotfind,andthenreturntotheGoodCheerHouseforrestandsustenance.OnthefourthdayhereceivedashortnotefromUncleJim; itwas couched in his usual sanguine but brief and businesslike style.Hewasverysorry,butimportantandprofitablebusinesstookhimoutoftown,buthetrustedtoreturnsoonandwelcomehisoldpartner.Hewasalso,forthefirsttime,jocose,andhopedthatUncleBillywouldnot"seeallthesights"beforehe,UncleJim,returned.DisappointingasthisprocrastinationwastoUncleBilly,agleamofhopeirradiatedit:theletterhadbridgedoverthatgulfwhichseemedtoyawnbetweenthemat thepost-office.Hisoldpartnerhadacceptedhisvisit toSan Francisco without question, and had alluded to a renewal of their oldintimacy.ForUncleBilly,withallhis trustfulsimplicity,hadbeen torturedbytwoharrowingdoubts:one,whetherUncleJiminhisnew-fledgedsmartnessasa"city" man—such as he saw in the streets—would care for his roughcompanionship;theother,whetherhe,UncleBilly,oughtnottotellhimatonceof his changed fortune. But, like all weak, unreasoning men, he clungdesperatelytoadetail—hecouldnotforegohisoldideaofastoundingUncleJimby giving him his share of the "strike" as his first intimation of it, and hedoubted,withmorereasonperhaps,ifJimwouldseehimafterhehadheardofhis good fortune. For Uncle Billy had still a frightened recollection of UncleJim'ssuddenstrokefor independence,andthatrigidpunctiliousnesswhichhadmadehimdoggedlyaccepttheresponsibilityofhisextravagantstakeateuchre.

WithaviewofeducatinghimselfforUncleJim'scompany,he"sawthesights"ofSanFrancisco—asanovergrownandsomewhatstupidchildmighthaveseenthem—withgreatcuriosity,butlittlecontaminationorcorruption.ButIthinkhewas chiefly pleasedwithwatching the arrival of theSacramento andStocktonsteamers at thewharves, in thehopeofdiscoveringhisoldpartner among thepassengers on the gang-plank. Here, with his old superstitious tendency andgambler'sinstinct,hewouldaugurgreatsuccessinhissearchthatdayifanyoneof thepassengersbore the least resemblance toUncleJim, ifamanorwomansteppedofffirst,orifhemetasingleperson'squestioningeye.Indeed,thisgotto be the real occupation of the day, which he would on no account haveomitted,andtoacertainextentrevivedeachdayinhismindthemorning'sworkof theiroldpartnership.Hewould say tohimself, "It's time togoand lookupJim,"andputoffwhathewaspleasedtothinkwerehispleasuresuntilthisactofdutywasaccomplished.

Inthissinglenessofpurposehemadeveryfewandnoentanglingacquaintances,nordidheimparttoanyonethesecretofhisfortune,loyallyreservingitforhis

partner'sfirstknowledge.Toamanofhisnaturalfranknessandsimplicity thiswasagreattrial,andwas,perhaps,acrucialtestofhisdevotion.Whenhegaveuphis rooms at theOriental—asnot necessary after his partner's absence—hesentaletter,withhishumbleaddress,tothemysteriouslock-boxofhispartnerwithout fear or false shame. He would explain it all when they met. But hesometimes treated unlucky and returningminers to a dinner and a visit to thegallery of some theatre. Yet while he had an active sympathy with andunderstandingof thehumblest,UncleBilly,who formanyyearshaddonehisown and his partner'swashing, scrubbing,mending, and cooking, and saw nodegradation in it,was somewhat inconsistently irritatedbymenial functions inmen, and althoughhe gave extravagantly towaiters, and threwa dollar to thecrossing-sweeper, there was always a certain shy avoidance of them in hismanner.ComingfromthetheatreonenightUncleBillywas,however,seriouslyconcerned by one of these crossing-sweepers turning hastily before them andbeingknockeddownbyapassingcarriage.Themanroseandlimpedhurriedlyaway; but Uncle Billy was amazed and still more irritated to hear from hiscompanionthatthiskindofmenialoccupationwasoftenprofitable,andthatatsomeoftheprincipalcrossingsthesweeperswerealreadyrichmen.

ButafewdayslaterbroughtamorenotableeventtoUncleBilly.OneafternooninMontgomeryStreetherecognizedinoneofitssmartlydressedfrequentersamanwhohadafewyearsbeforebeenamemberofCedarCamp.UncleBilly'schildish delight at thismeeting,which seemed to bridge over his old partner'sabsence, was, however, only half responded to by the ex-miner, and thensomewhatsatirically.Inthefullnessofhisemotion,UncleBillyconfidedtohimthat hewas seeking his old partner, JimFoster, and, reticent of his owngoodfortune,spokeglowinglyofhispartner'sbrilliantexpectations,butdeploredhisinability to find him. And just now he was away on important business. "Ireckonhe'sgotback,"saidthemandryly."Ididn'tknowhehadalock-boxatthepost-office, but I can give you his other address. He lives at the Presidio, atWasherwoman's Bay." He stopped and looked with a satirical smile at UncleBilly.But the latter, familiarwithCalifornianmining-campnomenclature, sawnothingstrangeinit,andmerelyrepeatedhiscompanion'swords.

"You'll find him there!Good-by! So long! Sorry I'm in a hurry," said the ex-miner,andhurriedaway.

UncleBillywastoodelightedwiththeprospectofaspeedymeetingwithUncleJim to resent his former associate's supercilioushaste, or even towonderwhy

UncleJimhadnot informedhimthathehadreturned. Itwasnot thefirst timethathehadfelthowwidewasthegulfbetweenhimselfandtheseothers,andthethoughtdrewhimclosertohisoldpartner,aswellashisoldidea,asitwasnowpossibletosurprisehimwiththedraft.Butashewasgoingtosurprisehiminhisownboarding-house—probablyahandsomeone—UncleBillyreflectedthathewoulddosoinacertainstyle.

He accordinglywent to a livery stable and ordered a landau and pair, with anegrocoachman.Seatedinit,inhisbestandmostill-fittingclothes,heaskedthecoachman to takehimto thePresidio,and leanedback in thecushionsas theydrovethroughthestreetswithsuchanexpressionofbeaminggratificationonhisgood-humored face that the passers-by smiled at the equipage and itsextravagantoccupant.Tothemitseemedthenotunusualsightofthesuccessfulminer"onaspree."TotheunsophisticatedUncleBillytheirsmilingseemedonlya natural and kindly recognition of his happiness, and he nodded and smiledback to them with unsuspecting candor and innocent playfulness. "These yer'Friscofellersain'tALLslouches,youbet,"headdedtohimselfhalfaloud,atthebackofthegrinningcoachman.

Theirwayledthroughwell-builtstreetstotheoutskirts,orrathertothatportionof the city which seemed to have been overwhelmed by shifting sand-dunes,fromwhichhalf-submergedfencesandevenlowhousesbarelymarkedthelineof highway. The resistless trade-winds which had marked this change blewkeenly in his face and slightly chilled his ardor.At a turn in the road the seacameinsight,andslopingtowardsitthegreatCemeteryofLoneMountain,withwhite shafts and marbles that glittered in the sunlight like the sails of shipswaiting to be launched down that slope into the Eternal Ocean. Uncle Billyshuddered.WhatifithadbeenhisfatetoseekUncleJimthere!

"Dar's yar Presidio!" said the negro coachman a fewmoments later, pointingwithhiswhip,"anddar'syarWash'woman'sBay!"

UncleBillystared.Ahugequadrangularfortofstonewithaflagflyingaboveitsbattlementsstoodatalittledistance,pressedagainsttherocks,asifbeatingbacktheencroachingsurges;betweenhimandthefortbutfartherinlandwasalagoonwith a number of dilapidated, rudely patched cabins or cottages, like strandeddriftwoodaround its shore.But therewasnomansion,noblockofhouses,nostreet,notanotherhabitationordwellingtobeseen!

UncleBilly'sfirstshockofastonishmentwassucceededbyafeelingofrelief.Hehadsecretlydreadedameetingwithhisoldpartner in the"hauntsof fashion;"whatever was the cause that made Uncle Jim seek this obscure retirementaffectedhimbutslightly;heevenwasthrilledwithavaguememoryoftheoldshiftlesscamptheyhadbothabandoned.Acertain instinct—heknewnotwhy,or less still that it might be one of delicacy—made him alight before theyreachedthefirsthouse.Biddingthecarriagewait,UncleBillyentered,andwasinformed by a blowzy Irish laundress at a tub that Jim Foster, or "ArkansawJim,"livedatthefourthshanty"beyant."Hewasathome,for"he'dshprainedhisfut."UncleBillyhurriedon, stoppedbefore thedoorof a shanty scarcely lessrudethantheiroldcabin,andhalftimidlypusheditopen.Agrowlingvoicefromwithin,afigurethatrosehurriedly,leaningonastick,withanattempttofly,butin thesamemomentsankback inachairwithanhysterical laugh—andUncleBillystoodinthepresenceofhisoldpartner!ButasUncleBillydartedforward,UncleJimroseagain,andthistimewithoutstretchedhands.UncleBillycaughtthem,andinonesupremepressureseemedtopouroutandtransfusehiswholesimple soul into his partner's. There they swayed each other backwards andforwards and sideways by their still clasped hands, until Uncle Billy, with aglanceatUncleJim'sbandagedankle,shovedhimbysheerforcedownintohischair.

UncleJimwasfirsttospeak."Caught,b'gosh!Imighterknownyou'dbeasbigafoolasme!Lookyou,BillyFall,doyouknowwhatyou'vedone?You'vedruvme out er the streets whar I was makin' an honest livin', by day, on threecrossin's! Yes," he laughed forgivingly, "you druv me out er it, by day, jestbecause I reckoned that some time Imight run into your darned fool face,"—another laugh and a grasp of the hand,—"and then, b'gosh! not content withruinin'mybusinessBYDAY,whenItooktoitatnight,YOUtooktogoin'outatnights too,andsoputa stopperonme there!Shall I tellyouwhatelseyoudid?Well,bytheholypoker!Iowethissprainedfoottoyourdarnedfoolishnessandmyown,foritwasgettingawayfromYOUonenightafterthetheatrethatIgotrunintoandrunover!

"Ye see," he went on, unconscious of Uncle Billy's paling face, and with anaivete,thoughperhapsnotadelicacy,equaltoUncleBilly'sown,"Ihadtoplayrootsonyouwiththatlock-boxbusinessandtheseletters,becauseIdidnotwantyou toknowwhat Iwasup to, foryoumightn't like it,andmight think itwaslowerin' to the old firm, don't yer see? Iwouldn't hev gone into it, but Iwasplayedout,andIdon'tmindtellin'youNOW,oldman, thatwhenIwroteyou

thatfirstchipperletterfromthelock-boxIhedn'teatanythin'fortwodays.Butit's all right NOW," with a laugh. "Then I got into this business—thinkin' itnothin'— jest the very last thing—and do you know, old pard, I couldn't tellanybody but YOU—and, in fact, I kept it jest to tell you— I've made ninehundred and fifty-six dollars! Yes, sir, NINE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-SIXDOLLARS!solidmoney,inAdamsandCo.'sBank,justoutermytrade."

"Wottrade?"askedUncleBilly.

UncleJimpointedtothecorner,wherestoodalarge,heavycrossing-sweeper'sbroom."Thattrade."

"Certingly,"saidUncleBilly,withaquicklaugh.

"It's an outdoor trade," said Uncle Jim gravely, but with no suggestion ofawkwardnessorapologyinhismanner;"andtharain'tmuchdifferencebetweensweepin'acrossin'withabroomandrakingover tailingwitharake,ONLY—WOTYEGETwithabroomYOUHAVEHANDEDTOYE,andyedon'thavetoPICKITUPANDFISHITOUTERthewetrocksandsluice-gushin';andit'saheaplesstiringtotheback."

"Certingly,youbet!"saidUncleBillyenthusiastically,yetwithacertainnervousabstraction.

"I'mgladyesayso; foryer see Ididn'tknowat firsthowyou'd tumble tomydoingit,untilI'dmademypile.AndefIhadn'tmadeit,Iwouldn'thevseteyesonyeagin,oldpard—never!"

"Doyoumindmyrunnin'outaminit,"saidUncleBilly, rising."Yousee, I'vegotafriendwaitin'formeoutside—andIreckon"—hestammered—"I'lljestrunoutandsendhimoff,soIkintalkcomf'bletoye."

"Ye ain't got anybody you're owin' money to," said Uncle Jim earnestly,"anybody follerin' you to get paid, eh? For I kin jest set down right here andwriteyeoffacheckonthebank!"

"No," saidUncleBilly.He slipped out of the door, and ran like a deer to thewaitingcarriage.Thrustingatwenty-dollargold-pieceintothecoachman'shand,hesaidhoarsely,"Iain'twantin'thatkerridgejustnow;yekendrivearoundandhevaprivatejamboreeallbyyourself therestoftheafternoon,andthencome

andwaitformeatthetopo'thehillyonder."

Thusquitofhisgorgeousequipage,hehurriedbacktoUncleJim,graspinghisten-thousanddollardraftinhispocket.Hewasnervous,hewasfrightened,buthemustgetridofthedraftandhisstory,andhaveitover.ButbeforehecouldspeakhewasunexpectedlystoppedbyUncleJim.

"Now, lookyer,Billyboy!" saidUncle Jim;"Igot suthin' to say toye—and Imightaswellclearitoffmymindatonce,andthenwecanstartfairagin.Now,"hewenton,withahalflaugh,"wasn'titenoughforMEtogoonpretendin'Iwasrich and doing a big business, and gettin' up that lock-box dodge so as yecouldn'tfindoutwharIhungoutandwhatIwasdoin'—wasn'titenoughforMEtogoonwithallthisplay-actin',butYOU,youlong-leggedornarycuss!mustgetupandgotolyin'andplay-actin',too!"

"MEplay-actin'?MElyin'?"gaspedUncleBilly.

UncleJimleanedback inhischairand laughed."DoyouthinkyoucouldfoolME?Doyou think I didn't see throughyour little gameo' going to that swellOriental,jestasifye'dmadeabigstrike—andallthewhileyewasn'tsleepin'oreatin'there,butjestwrastlin'yerhashandhavingarolldownattheGoodCheer!DoyouthinkIdidn'tspyonyeandfindthatout?Oh,youlong-earedjackass-rabbit!"

Helaugheduntilthetearscameintohiseyes,andUncleBillylaughedtoo,albeituntilthelaughonhisfacebecamequitefixed,andhewasfaintoburyhisheadinhishandkerchief.

"Andyet,"saidUncleJim,withadeepbreath,"gosh!Iwasfrighted—jestforaminit! I thought, mebbe, you HADmade a big strike—when I got your firstletter—and Imadeupmymindwhat I'ddo!And then I rememberedyouwasjestthatkindofanopensluicethatcouldn'tkeepanythin'toyourself,andyou'dhavebeen sure tohaveyelled it out toME the first thing.So Iwaited.And Ifoundyouout,youoldsinner!"HereachedforwardanddugUncleBillyintheribs.

"WhatWOULDyouhevdone?"saidUncleBilly,afteranhystericalcollapse.

Uncle Jim's face grew grave again. "I'd hev—I'd—hev cl'ared out! Out er'Frisco!outerCaliforny!outerAmeriky!Icouldn'thavestudit!Don't thinkI

wouldhevbegrudgedyeyerluck!Nomanwouldhavebeengladderthanme."He leaned forward again, and laidhis hand caressinglyuponhis partner's arm—"Don'tthinkI'dhevwantedtotakeapennyofit—butI—thar!ICOULDN'Thevstoodupunderit!TohevhadYOU,youthatIleftbehind,comin'downhererollin' in wealth and new partners and friends, and arrive uponme—and thisshanty—and"—hethrewtowardsthecorneroftheroomaterriblegesture,nonethelessterriblethatitwasillogicalandinconsequenttoallthathadgonebefore—"and—and—THATBROOM!"

Therewasadeadsilenceintheroom.WithitUncleBillyseemedtofeelhimselfagaintransportedtothehomelycabinatCedarCampandthatfatefulnight,withhispartner'sstrange,determinedfacebeforehimasthen.Heevenfanciedthatheheardtheroaringofthepineswithout,anddidnotknowthatitwasthedistantsea.

ButafteraminuteUncleJimresumed:—

"Ofcourseyou'vemadealittleraisesomehow,oryouwouldn'tbehere?"

"Yes,"saidUncleBillyeagerly."Yes! I'vegot"—Hestoppedandstammered."I'vegot—a—fewhundreds."

"Oh, oh!" saidUncle Jim cheerfully.He paused, and then added earnestly, "Isay!Youain'tgotleft,overandaboveyourd—dfoolishnessattheOriental,asmuchasfivehundreddollars?"

"I'vegot,"saidUncleBilly,blushingalittleoverhisfirstdeliberateandaffectedlie, "I've got at least five hundred and seventy-two dollars. Yes," he addedtentatively,gazinganxiouslyathispartner,"I'vegotatleastthat."

"Jewhillikins!" saidUncle Jim,witha laugh.Theneagerly, "Lookhere,pard!Thenwe're onvelvet! I'vegotNINEhundred; put yourFIVEwith that, and Iknow a little ranch thatwe can get for twelve hundred. That'swhat I've beensavin' up for—that'smy littlegame!Nomoreminin' forME. It's got a shantytwiceasbigasouroldcabin,nighonahundredacres,and twomustangs.Wecan run it with twoChinamen and jestmake it howl!Wot yer say—eh?"Heextendedhishand.

"I'm in,"saidUncleBilly, radiantlygraspingUncleJim's.Buthissmile faded,andhisclearsimplebrowwrinkledintwolines.

Happily Uncle Jim did not notice it. "Now, then, old pard," he said brightly,"we'llhaveagayoldtimetonight—oneofourjamborees!I'vegotsomewhiskeyhereandadecko'cards,andwe'llhavealittlegame,youunderstand,butnotfor'keeps'now!No,siree;we'llplayforbeans."

A sudden light illuminated Uncle Billy's face again, but he said, with a grimdesperation,"Nottonight!I'vegottogointotown.Thatfren'o'mineexpectsmetogotothetheayter,don'tyesee?ButI'llbeoutto-morrowatsun-up,andwe'llfixupthisthingo'theranch."

"Seemstomeyou'rekinderstuckonthisfren',"gruntedUncleJim.

Uncle Billy's heart bounded at his partner's jealousy. "No—but IMUST, youknow,"hereturned,withafaintlaugh.

"Isay—itain'taHER,isit?"saidUncleJim.

UncleBillyachievedadiabolicalwinkandacreditableblushathislie.

"Billy?"

"Jim!"

Andunder coverof this festivegallantryUncleBilly escaped.He ran throughthe gathering darkness, and toiled up the shifting sands to the top of the hill,wherehefoundthecarriagewaiting.

"Wot,"saidUncleBillyinalowconfidentialtonetothecoachman,"wotdoyou'Frisco fellers allow to be the best, biggest, and riskiest gamblin'-saloon here?Suthin'high-toned,youknow?"

Thenegrogrinned. Itwas the usual case of the extravagant spendthriftminer,thoughperhapshehadexpectedadifferentquestionandorder.

"Deyisde'Polka,'de'ElDorado,'andde'Arcade'saloon,boss,"hesaid,flickinghiswhipmeditatively. "Mostgents fromdeminespreferde 'Polka,' fordey isdancingwiddegalsfrownin.Butderealprimafacieplaceforgentswhogoforbuckin'agindetigerandstraight-outgamblin'isde'Arcade.'"

"Drivetherelikethunder!"saidUncleBilly,leapingintothecarriage.

......

Truetohisword,UncleBillywasathispartner'sshantyearlythenextmorning.He looked a little tired, but happy, and had brought a draftwith him for fivehundredandseventy-fivedollars,whichheexplainedwasthetotalofhiscapital.UncleJimwasoverjoyed.TheywouldstartforNapathatveryday,andconcludethepurchaseoftheranch;UncleJim'ssprainedfootwasasufficientreasonforhisgivinguphispresentvocation,whichhecouldalsosellatasmallprofit.Hisdomesticarrangementswereverysimple;therewasnothingtotakewithhim—there was everything to leave behind. And that afternoon, at sunset, the tworeunitedpartnerswereseatedonthedeckoftheNapaboatassheswungintothestream.

UncleBillywasgazingovertherailingwithalookofabstractedrelieftowardstheGoldenGate,where the sinking sun seemed tobedrawing towardshim intheoceanagoldenstreamthatwasforeverpouringfromtheBayandthethree-hilled city beside it. What Uncle Billy was thinking of, or what the picturesuggested to him, did not transpire; for Uncle Jim, who, emboldened by hisholiday, was luxuriating in an evening paper, suddenly uttered a long-drawnwhistle,andmovedclosertohisabstractedpartner."Lookyer,"hesaid,pointingtoaparagraphhehadevidentlyjustread,"justyoulistentothis,andseeifweain'tlucky,youandme,tobejestwotweair—trustin'toourownhardwork—andnotthinkin'o''strikes'and'fortins.'Jestunbuttonyerears,Billy,whileIreeloffthisyerthingI'vejeststruckinthepaper,andseewhatd—dfoolssomemenkinmakeo'themselves.Andthattheerreporterwotwroteit—musthevseeditreely!"

UncleJimclearedhisthroat,andholdingthepaperclosetohiseyesreadaloudslowly:—

"'Asceneofexcitement that recalled thepalmydaysof '49waswitnessed lastnightattheArcadeSaloon.Astranger,whomighthavebelongedtothatrecklessepoch, andwhobore every evidenceof being a successfulPikeCountymineroutona"spree,"appearedatoneof the tableswithanegrocoachmanbearingtwoheavybagsofgold.Selectingafaro-bankashisbaseofoperations,hebeganto bet heavily and with apparent recklessness, until his play excited thebreathlessattentionofeveryone.Inafewmomentshehadwonasumvariouslyestimatedatfromeightytoahundredthousanddollars.Arumorwentroundtheroomthatitwasaconcertedattemptto"breakthebank"ratherthanthedrunken

freakofaWesternminer,dazzledbysomesuccessfulstrike.Tothistheorytheman'scarelessandindifferentbearingtowardshisextraordinarygainslentgreatcredence.Theattempt,ifsuchitwas,however,wasunsuccessful.Afterwinningtentimesinsuccessiontheluckturned,andtheunfortunate"bucker"wasclearedoutnotonlyofhisgains,butofhisoriginal investment,whichmaybeplacedroughlyattwentythousanddollars.Thisextraordinaryplaywaswitnessedbyacrowdofexcitedplayers,whowerelessimpressedbyeventhemagnitudeofthestakesthantheperfectsang-froidandrecklessnessoftheplayer,who,itissaid,at the close of the game tossed a twenty-dollar gold-piece to the banker andsmilinglywithdrew.Themanwasnotrecognizedbyanyofthehabituesoftheplace.'

"There!"saidUncleJim,ashehurriedlyslurredover theFrenchsubstantiveattheclose,"didyeeverseesuchGod-forsakenfoolishness?"

Uncle Billy lifted his abstracted eyes from the current, still pouring itsunreturning gold into the sinking sun, and said, with a deprecatory smile,"Never!"

Norevenin thedaysofprosperity thatvisitedtheGreatWheatRanchof"FallandFoster"didheevertellhissecrettohispartner.

SEEYUP

Idon'tsupposethathisprogenitorsevergavehimthatname,or,indeed,thatitwas a NAME at all; but it was currently believed that—as pronounced "SeeUP"—it meant that lifting of the outer angle of the eye common to theMongolian.On the other hand, I had been told that therewas an oldChinesecustomofaffixingsomemottoorlegend,orevenasentencefromConfucius,asa signabove their shops, and that twoormorewords,whichmightbemerelyequivalentto"Virtueisitsownreward,"or"Richesaredeceitful,"werebelievedby the simple Californian miner to be the name of the occupant himself.Howbeit,"SeeYup"accepteditwiththesmilingpatienceofhisrace,andneverwentbyanyother.Ifoneofthetunnelmenalwaysaddressedhimas"Brigadier-General,""Judge,"or"Commodore,"itwasunderstoodtobeonlytheAmericanfondnessforironictitle,andwasneverusedexceptinpersonalconversation.Inappearance he looked like anyotherChinaman,wore the ordinary blue cotton

blouse andwhite drawers of the Sampan coolie, and, in spite of the apparentcleanliness and freshness of these garments, always exhaled that singularmedicatedodor—halfopium,halfginger—whichwerecognizedasthecommon"Chinesesmell."

Our first interview was characteristic of his patient quality. He had done mywashingforseveralmonths,butIhadneveryetseenhim.Ameetingatlasthadbecomenecessarytocorrecthisimpressionsregarding"buttons"—whichhehadseemed to consider asmere excrescences, to be removed like superfluous dirtfromsoiledlinen.Ihadexpectedhimtocallatmylodgings,buthehadnotyetmadehis appearance.Oneday,during thenoontide recessof the little frontierschooloverwhichIpresided,Ireturnedratherearly.Twoorthreeofthesmallerboys,whowereloiteringabouttheschool-yard,disappearedwithacertainguiltyprecipitation that I suspected for themoment, butwhich I presently dismissedfrommymind.Ipassedthroughtheemptyschool-roomtomydesk,satdown,andbegantopreparethecominglessons.PresentlyIheardafaintsigh.Lookingup, to my intense concern, I discovered a solitary Chinaman whom I hadoverlooked,sittinginarigidattitudeonabenchwithhisbacktothewindow.Hecaughtmyeyeandsmiledsadly,butwithoutmoving.

"Whatareyoudoinghere?"Iaskedsternly.

"Mewasheeshilts;metalkee'buttons.'"

"Oh!you'reSeeYup,areyou?"

"Alleesame,John."

"Well,comehere."

Icontinuedmywork,buthedidnotmove.

"Comehere,hangit!Don'tyouunderstand?"

"Meshabbee, 'commeyea.'ButmenoshabbeeMellicanboy,whocatcheeme,alleesame.YOU'commeyea'—YOUshabbee?"

Indignant,butbelievingthattheunfortunatemanwasstillinfearofpersecutionfromthemischievousurchinswhomIhadevidentlyjustinterrupted,Iputdownmy pen and went over to him. Here I discovered, to my surprise and

mortification,thathislongpigtailwasheldhardandfastbytheclosedwindowbehind himwhich the young rascals had shut down upon it, after having firstnoiselessly fished it outside with a hook and line. I apologized, opened thewindow, and released him.He did not complain, although hemust have beenfixedinthatuncomfortablepositionforsomeminutes,butplungedatonceintothebusinessthatbroughthimthere.

"ButWHYdidn'tyoucometomylodgings?"Iasked.

Hesmiledsadlybutintelligently.

"Mishtel Bally [Mr. Barry, my landlord] he owce me five dollee fo washee,washee.Henopayeeme.HesayheknockhelleeouteemealleetimeIcomeforpayee. Some no comeHOUSEE,me come SCHOOLEE, Shabbee?Mellicanboynogood,butnotsobigasMellicanman.NocanhurteeChinamansomuch.Shabbee?"

Alas!Iknewthatthiswasmainlytrue.Mr.JamesBarrywasanIrishman,whosefinerreligiousfeelingsrevoltedagainstpayingmoneytoaheathen.IcouldnotfinditinmyhearttosayanythingtoSeeYupaboutthebuttons;indeed,Ispokein complimentary terms about the gloss of my shirts, and I think I meeklybeggedhim tocomeagain formywashing.When IwenthomeIexpostulatedwithMr.Barry,butsucceededonlyinextractingfromhimtheconvictionthatIwasoneof"thimblackRepublicanfellysthatworshipednaygurs."Ihadsimplymadeanenemyofhim.ButIdidnotknowthat,atthesametime,IhadmadeafriendofSeeYup!

Ibecameawareofthisafewdayslater,bytheappearanceonmydeskofasmallpot containing a specimen of camellia japonica in flower. I knew the school-childrenwere in the habit ofmaking presents tome in this furtive fashion,—leaving theirownnosegaysofwild flowers,orperhapsaclusterof roses fromtheir parents' gardens,—but I also knew that this exoticwas too rare to comefromthem.IrememberedthatSeeYuphadaChinesetasteforgardening,andafriend,anotherChinaman,whokepta largenursery in theadjoining town.Butmy doubts were set at rest by the discovery of a small roll of red rice-papercontainingmywashing-bill,fastenedtothecamelliastalk.ItwasplainthatthisminglingofbusinessanddelicategratitudewasclearlySeeYup'sownidea.Asthefinestflowerwasthetopmostone,Ipluckeditforwearing,whenIfound,tomyastonishment,thatitwassimplywiredtothestalk.Thisledmetolookatthe

others,whichIfoundalsowired!Morethanthat,theyseemedtobeaninferiorflower, and exhaled that cold, earthy odor peculiar to the camellia, even, as Ithought,toanexcess.Acloserexaminationresultedinthediscoverythat,withtheexceptionofthefirstflowerIhadplucked,theywereoneandallingeniouslyconstructed of thin slices of potato, marvelously cut to imitate the vegetablewaxiness and formality of the real flower. The work showed an infinite andalmostpatheticpatienceindetail,yetstrangelyincommensuratewiththeresult,admirable as itwas.Nevertheless, thiswasalso likeSeeYup.Butwhetherhehad tried to deceiveme, orwhether he onlywishedme to admire his skill, Icould not say. And as his persecution by my scholars had left a balance ofconsiderationinhisfavor,Isenthimawarmnoteofthanks,andsaidnothingofmydiscovery.

Asouracquaintanceprogressed,Ibecamefrequentlytherecipientofothersmallpresentsfromhim:apotofpreservesofaqualityIcouldnotpurchaseinshops,andwhosecontentsintheircrafty,gingerydissimulationsodefieddefinitionthatI never knew whether they were animal, vegetable, or mineral; two or threehideousChineseidols,"forluckee,"andadiabolicalfire-workwithanirregularspasmodicactivitythatwouldsometimesbeprolongeduntilthenextmorning.Inreturn,IgavehimsomeapparentlyhopelessorallessonsinEnglish,andcertainsentencestobecopied,whichhedidwithmarvelousprecision.Irememberoneinstance when this peculiar faculty of imitation was disastrous in result. Insetting him a copy, I had blurred a word which I promptly erased, and thentracedthelettersmoredistinctlyoverthescratchedsurface.Tomysurprise,SeeYuptriumphantlyproducedHIScopywiththeerasionitselfcarefullyimitated,and,infact,muchmoreneatlydonethanmine.

Inourconfidential intercourse, Ineverseemed to reallygetnearer tohim.Hissympathy and simplicity appeared like his flowers—to be a good-humoredimitationofmyown.Iamsatisfiedthathisparticularlysoulless laughwasnotderivedfromanyamusementheactuallyfelt,yetIcouldnotsayitwasforced.In his accurate imitations, I fancied he was only trying to evade anyresponsibilityofhisown.THATdevolveduponhistaskmaster!Intheattentionhe displayed when new ideas were presented to him, there was a slightcondescension,as ifhewerelookingdownuponthemfromhis threethousandyearsofhistory.

"Don'tyouthinktheelectrictelegraphwonderful?"Iaskedoneday.

"VerygoodforMellicanman,"hesaid,withhisaimless laugh;"plentymakeehimjump!"

Inevercouldtellwhetherhehadconfoundeditwithelectro-galvanism,orwasonlysatirizingourAmericanhasteand feverishness.Hewascapableofeither.Forthatmatter,weknewthattheChinesethemselvespossessedsomemeansofsecretlyandquicklycommunicatingwithoneanother.AnynewsofgoodorillimporttotheirracewasquicklydisseminatedthroughthesettlementbeforeWEknewanything about it.An innocent basket of clothes from thewash, sent upfromtheriver-bank,becameinsomewayalibraryofinformation;asingleslipof rice-paper, aimlessly fluttering in the dust of the road, had the mysteriouseffectofdivergingawholegangofcoolietrampsawayfromoursettlement.

When See Yup was not subject to the persecutions of themore ignorant andbrutal he was always a source of amusement to all, and I cannot recall aninstancewhenhewasevertakenseriously.Theminersfounddiversionseveninhisallegedfraudsandtrickeries,whetherinnocentorretaliatory,andwerefondofrelatingwithgreatgustohisevasionoftheForeignMiners'Tax.Thiswasanoppressivemeasure aimedprincipally at theChinese,whohumblyworked theworn-out"tailings"oftheirChristianfellowminers.ItwasstatedthatSeeYup,knowing the difficulty—already alluded to—of identifying any particularChinamanbyNAME,conceivedtheadditionalideaofconfusingrecognitionbyintensifyingthemonotonousfacialexpression.Havingpaidhistaxhimselftothecollector,heatoncepassedthereceipttohisfellows,sothatthecollectorfoundhimself confronted indifferent parts of the settlementwith the receipt and theaimlesslaughof,apparently,SeeYuphimself.AlthoughweallknewthattherewereadozenChinamenormoreatworkat themines, thecollectorneverwasabletocollectthetaxfrommorethanTWO,—SeeYupandoneSeeYin,—andsogreatwasTHEIRfacial resemblance that theunfortunateofficial fora longtime hugged himself with the conviction that he had made See Yup PAYTWICE,andwithheldthemoneyfromthegovernment!Itisveryprobablethatthe Californian's recognition of the sanctity of a joke, and his belief that"cheatingthegovernmentwasonlycheatinghimself,"largelyaccountedforthesympathiesoftherestoftheminers.

Butthesesympathieswerenotalwaysunanimous.

OneeveningIstrolledintothebar-roomoftheprincipalsaloon,which,sofarasmere upholstery and comfort went, was also the principal house in the

settlement. The first rains had commenced; the windows were open, for theinfluenceof the southwest tradespenetratedeven this far-offmountainminingsettlement,but,oddlyenough,therewasafireinthelargecentralstove,aroundwhich the miners had collected, with their steaming boots elevated on aprojectingironrailingthatencircledit.Theywerenotattractedbythewarmth,but thestoveformedasocialpivotforgossip,andsuggestedthatmysticcircledeartothegregariousinstinct.Yettheyweredecidedlyadespondentgroup.Forsomemomentsthesilencewasonlybrokenbyagasp,asigh,amutteredoath,oran impatient change of position. There was nothing in the fortunes of thesettlement,norintheirownindividualaffairstosuggestthisgloom.Thesingulartruthwasthattheywere,oneandall,sufferingfromthepangsofdyspepsia.

Incongruous as such a complaint might seem to their healthy environment,—their outdoor life, their daily exercise, thehealingbalsamof themountain air,theirenforcedtemperanceindiet,andtheabsenceofallenervatingpleasures,—it was nevertheless the incontestable fact. Whether it was the result of thenervous,excitabletemperamentwhichhadbroughtthemtogetherinthisfeverishhunt for gold; whether it was the quality of the tinned meats or half-cookedprovisions they hastily bolted, begrudging the time it took to prepare and toconsume them; whether they too often supplanted their meals by tobacco orwhiskey, the singular physiological truth remained that these young, finelyselectedadventurers,livingthelivesofthenatural,aboriginalman,andlookingthepictureofhealthandstrength,actuallysufferedmorefromindigestionthanthepampereddwellersofthecities.Thequantityof"patentmedicines,""bitters,""pills," "panaceas," and "lozenges" sold in the settlement almost exceeded theamountof the regularprovisionswhoseeffects theywere supposed to correct.The sufferers eagerly scanned advertisements and placards. There wereoccasional"runs"onnew"specifics,"andgeneralconversationeventuallyturnedintoadiscussionoftheirrespectivemerits.Acertainchildlikefaithandtrustineachnewremedywasnottheleastdistressingandpatheticofthesymptomsofthesegrown-up,beardedmen.

"Well, gentlemen," saidCyrusParker, glancing around at his fellow sufferers,"yekintalkofyourpatentmedicines,andI'vetackled'emall,butonlytheotherdayIstrucksuthin'thatI'mgoin'tohangonto,youbet."

Everyeyewasturnedmoodilytothespeaker,butnoonesaidanything.

"AndIdidn'tget itouteradvertisements,noroffofcirculars. Igot itoutermy

head,justbysolidthinking,"continuedParker.

"Whatwasit,Cy?"saidoneunsophisticatedandinexperiencedsufferer.

Instead of replying, Parker, like a true artist, knowing he had the ear of hisaudience,dramaticallyflashedaquestionuponthem.

"DidyoueverhearofaChinamanhavingdyspepsy?"

"NeverheardhehadsabeenoughtohevANYTHING,"saidascorner.

"No,butDIDye?"insistedParker.

"Well,no!"chorusedthegroup.Theywereevidentlystruckwiththefact.

"Of course you didn't," said Parker triumphantly. "'Cos they AIN'T. Well,gentlemen, it didn't seem to me the square thing that a pesky lot o' yellow-skinnedheathensshouldbebuiltdifferent toawhiteman,andneverknowthetortur'thataChristianfeels;andoneday,arterdinner,whenIwasjusta-lyin'flatdownonthebank,squirmin',andclutchingtheshortgrasstokeepfromyellin',whoshouldgobybutthatpizenedSeeYup,withagrinonhisface.

"'Mellican man plenty playee to him Joss after eatin',' sez he; 'but Chinamansmelleepunk,alleesame,andnohabgot.'

"Iknewtheslimycusswasjustpurtendin'hethoughtIwasprayin'tomyJoss,butIwasthatweakIhadn'tstren'th,boys,toheavearockathim.Yetitgavemeanidea."

"Whatwasit?"theyaskedeagerly.

"Iwentdown tohis shop thenext day,whenhewas alone, and Iwas feelingmightybad,andIgotholdofhispigtailandIallowedI'dstuffitdownhisthroatifhedidn'ttellmewhathemeant.Thenhetookapieceofpunkandlitit,andputitundermynose,and,darnmyskin,gentlemen,youmigh'n'tbelieveme,butinaminuteIfeltbetter,andafterawhiffortwoIwasallright."

"Wasitpow'fulstrong,Cy?"askedtheinexperiencedone.

"No,"saidParker,"andthat'sjustwhat'sgotme.Itwasasorto'dreamy,spicy

smell,likeahotnight.ButasIcouldn'tgo'round'mongyouboyswithalightedpiece o' punk inmyhand, ez if Iwas settin' off Fourth of July firecrackers, Iaskedhimifhecouldn'tfixmeupsuthin'inanothershapethatwouldbehandiertousewhenIwastookbad,andI'dreckontopayhimforitlikeezI'dpayforanyotherpatentmedicine.Sohefixedmeupthis."

He put his hand in his pocket, and drew out a small red paper which, whenopened,disclosedapinkpowder.Itwasgravelypassedaroundthegroup.

"Why,itsmellsandtasteslikeginger,"saidone.

"Itisonlyginger!"saidanotherscornfully.

"Mebbe it is,andmebbe it isn't," returnedCyParkerstoutly."Mebbeut'sonlymy fancy. But if it's the sort o' stuff to bring on that fancy, and that fancyCURESme, it'sall thesame. I'vegotabout twodollars'wortho' that fancyorthatginger,andI'mgoingtostickto it.Youhearme!"Andhecarefullyput itbackinhispocket.

Atwhichcriticismsandgibesbrokeforth.Ifhe(CyParker),awhiteman,wasgoingto"demeanhimself"byconsultingaChinesequack,he'dbetterbuyupaloto'idolsandstand'emuparoundhiscabin.Ifhehadthatsorto'confidenceswithSeeYup, he ought to go toworkwith himonhis cheap tailings, and befumigatedallatthesametime.Ifhe'dbeensmokinganopiumpipe,insteadofsmellingpunk,heought tobemanenough toconfess it.Yet itwasnoticeablethattheywereallveryanxioustoexaminethepacketagain,butCyParkerwasalikeindifferenttodemandorentreaty.

AfewdayslaterIsawAbeWynford,oneoftheparty,comingoutofSeeYup'swash-house. He muttered something in passing about the infamous delay insendinghomehiswashing,butdidnotlingerlonginconversation.ThenextdayI met another miner AT the wash-house, but HE lingered so long on sometrifling details that I finally left him there alonewithSeeYup.When I calleduponPokerJackofShasta,therewasasingularsmellofincenseinHIScabin,whichheattributedtotheveryresinousqualityofthefirlogshewasburning.Idid not attempt to probe these mysteries by any direct appeal to See Yuphimself:Irespectedhisreticence;indeed,ifIhadnot,Iwasquitesatisfiedthathewouldhaveliedtome.Enoughthathiswash-housewaswellpatronized,andhewasdecidedly"gettingon."

ItmighthavebeenamonthafterwardsthatDr.Duchesnewassettingabrokenbone in the settlement, and after the operationwas over, had strolled into thePalmettoSaloon.Hewasanoldarmysurgeon,muchrespectedandlovedinthedistrict, although perhaps a little feared for the honest roughness andmilitaryprecisionofhis speech.Afterhehadexchangedsalutationswith theminers inhisusualheartyfashion,andacceptedtheirinvitationtodrink,CyParker,withacertain affected carelessness which did not, however, conceal a singularhesitationinhisspeech,began:—

"I'vebeenwantin'toaskyeaquestion,Doc,—asorto'darnedfoolquestion,yeknow,—nothing in thewayofconsultation,don'tyousee, though it'skiner inthewayo'yourpurfeshun.Sabe?"

"Goon,Cy,"saidthedoctorgood-humoredly,"thisismydispensaryhour."

"Oh!itain'tanythingaboutsymptoms,Doc,andthereain'tanythingthematterwith me. It's only just to ask ye if ye happened to know anything about themedicalpracticeoftheseyerChinamen?"

"I don't know," said the doctor bluntly, "and I don't know ANYBODY whodoes."

Therewasa sudden silence in thebar, and thedoctor,puttingdownhisglass,continuedwithslightprofessionalprecision:—

"You see, the Chinese know nothing of anatomy from personal observation.Autopsiesanddissectionareagainsttheirsuperstitions,whichdeclarethehumanbodysacred,andareconsequentlyneverpracticed."

There was a slight movement of inquiring interest among the party, and CyParker, after a meaning glance at the others, went on half aggressively, halfapologetically:—

"In course, they ain't surgeons like you, Doc, but that don't keep them fromhavingtheirownlittlemedicines,justasdogseatgrass,youknow.NowIwanttoputittoyou,asafa'r-mindedman,ifyoumeantersaythat,jestbecausethoseoldwomenwho sarve out yarbs and springmedicines in families don't knowanythingofanatomy,theyain'tfittogiveustheirsimpleandnat'ralmedicines?"

"ButtheChinesemedicinesarenotsimpleornatural,"saidthedoctorcoolly.

"Notsimple?"echoedtheparty,closingroundhim.

"I don't mean to say," continued the doctor, glancing around at their eager,excited faceswith anappearanceofwonder, "that theyarepositivelynoxious,unless taken in large quantities, for they are not drugs at all, but I certainlyshouldnotcallthem'simple.'DoYOUknowwhattheyprincipallyare?"

"Well,no,"saidParkercautiously,"perhapsnotEXACTLY."

"Comealittlecloser,andI'lltellyou."

NotonlyParker'sheadbuttheotherswerebentoverthecounter.Dr.Duchesneutteredafewwordsinatoneinaudibletotherestofthecompany.Therewasaprofoundsilence,brokenatlastbyAbeWynford'svoice:—

"Yekinpourmeoutaboutthreefingerso'whiskey,Barkeep.I'lltakeitstraight."

"Sametome,"saidtheothers.

Themengulpeddowntheir liquor; twoofthemquietlypassedout.Thedoctorwipedhislips,buttonedhiscoat,andbegantodrawonhisriding-gloves.

"I'veheerd,"saidPokerJackofShasta,withafaintsmileonhiswhiteface,ashetoyedwiththelastdropsofliquorinhisglass,"thatthedarnedfoolssometimessmellpunkasamedicine,eh?"

"Yes, THAT'S comparatively decent," said the doctor reflectively. "It's onlysawdustmixedwithalittlegumandformicacid."

"Formicacid?Wot'sthat?"

"A very peculiar acid secreted by ants. It is supposed to be used by themoffensivelyinwarfare—justastheskunk,eh?"

But Poker Jack of Shasta had hurriedly declared that hewanted to speak to aman who was passing, and had disappeared. The doctor walked to the door,mountedhis horse, and rode away. I noticed, however, that therewas a slightsmileonhisbronzed,impassiveface.Thisledmetowonderifhewasentirelyignorantofthepurposeforwhichhehadbeenquestioned,andtheeffectofhisinformation.Iwasconfirmedinthebeliefbytheremarkablecircumstancesthat

nothingmorewassaidof it; the incidentseemedtohave terminated there,andthevictimsmadenoattempttorevengethemselvesonSeeYup.Thattheyhadoneandall,secretlyandunknowntooneanother,patronizedhim,therewasnodoubt;but,atthesametime,astheyevidentlywerenotsurethatDr.DuchesnehadnothoaxedtheminregardtothequalityofSeeYup'smedicines,theyknewthat an attack on the unfortunate Chinaman would in either case reveal theirsecret and expose them to the ridicule of their brother miners. So the matterdropped,andSeeYupremainedmasterofthesituation.

Meantimehewasprospering.Thecooliegangheworkedontheriver,whennotengaged in washing clothes, were "picking over" the "tailings," or refuse ofgravel, left on abandoned claims by successfulminers.As therewas nomoreexpenseattendingthisthaninstone-breakingorrag-picking,andthefeedingofthecoolies,whichwasridiculouslycheap,therewasnodoubtthatSeeYupwasreapingafairweeklyreturnfromit;but,ashesenthisreceiptstoSanFranciscothroughcooliemanagers,after theChinesecustom,anddidnotusetheregularExpressCompany,therewasnowayofascertainingtheamount.Again,neitherSee Yup nor his fellow countrymen ever appeared to have any money aboutthem.Inrudertimesandmorerecklesscamps,raidswereoftenmadebyruffiansontheircabinsortheirtravelinggangs,butneverwithanypecuniaryresult.Thiscondition,however,itseemedwasdestinedtochange.

One Saturday See Yup walked intoWells, Fargo Co.'s Express office with apackage of gold-dust,which,when dulyweighed,was valued at five hundreddollars. It was consigned to a Chinese company in San Francisco.When theclerkhandedSeeYupareceipt,heremarkedcasually:—

"Washingseemstopay,SeeYup."

"Washeevellygoodpay.Youwanteewashee,John?"saidSeeYupeagerly.

"No,no,"saidtheclerk,withalaugh."Iwasonlythinkingfivehundreddollarswouldrepresentthewashingofagoodmanyshirts."

"No leplesent washee shirts at all! Catchee gold-dust when washee tailings.Shabbee?"

TheclerkDID"shabbee,"andliftedhiseyebrows.ThenextSaturdaySeeYupappearedwithanotherpackage,worthaboutfourhundreddollars,directedtothesameconsignee.

"Didn'tpanoutquitesorichthisweek,eh?"saidtheclerkengagingly.

"No,"returnedSeeYupimpassively;"nexttimehepayeemore."

When the third Saturday came, with the appearance of See Yup and fourhundred and fifty dollars' worth of gold-dust, the clerk felt he was no longerboundtokeepthesecret.Hecommunicatedittoothers,andintwenty-fourhoursthewhole settlement knew that SeeYup's coolie companywere taking out anaverageoffourhundreddollarsperweekfromtherefuseandtailingsoftheoldabandonedPalmettoclaim!

Theastonishmentof the settlementwasprofound. In earlierdays jealousyandindignationat thesuccessof thesedegradedheathensmighthavetakenamoreactiveandaggressive shape, and itwouldhave fared illwithSeeYupandhiscompanions.But thesettlementhadbecomemoreprosperousand law-abiding;therewereoneor twoEastern familiesandsomeforeigncapitalalready there,anditsjealousyandindignationwererestrictedtosevereinvestigationandlegalcriticism.FortunatelyforSeeYup,itwasanold-establishedmininglawthatanabandonedclaimanditstailingsbecamethepropertyofwhoeverchosetoworkit.But itwasalleged thatSeeYup'scompanyhad in reality"strucka lead,"—discoveredahithertounknownveinororiginaldepositofgold,notworkedbythepreviouscompany,andhavingfailedlegallytodeclareitbypreemptionandpublicregistry,intheirfoolishdesireforsecrecy,hadthusforfeitedtheirrighttothe property. A surveillance of their working, however, did not establish thistheory; the gold that SeeYup had sent awaywas of the kind thatmight havebeenfoundinthetailingsoverlookedbythelatePalmettoowners.Yetitwasaverylargeyieldformererefuse.

"ThemPalmetto boysweremighty keerless after they'dmade their big 'strike'andgottoworkonthevein,andIreckontheythrewalotofgoldaway,"saidCyParker, who remembered their large-handed recklessness in the "flush days.""On'ythatWEdidn'tthinkitwaswhiteman'sworktorakeoveranotherman'sleavin's,wemighthevhadwhatthemdernedChinamenhevdroppedinto.Tellyewhat,boys,we'vebeenalittletoo 'highandmighty,'andwe'llhevtoclimbdown."

Atlasttheexcitementreacheditsclimax,anddiplomacywasemployedtoeffectwhat neither intimidation nor espionage could secure. Under the pretense ofdesiring tobuyoutSeeYup's company, a select committeeof theminerswas

permittedtoexaminethepropertyanditsworkings.Theyfoundthegreatbankofstonesandgravel,representingthecast-outdebrisoftheoldclaim,occupiedbySeeYupandfourorfiveploddingautomaticcoolies.Attheendoftwohoursthecommitteereturnedtothesaloonburstingwithexcitement.Theyspokeundertheirbreath,butenoughwasgatheredtosatisfythecuriouscrowdthatSeeYup'spileoftailingswasrichbeyondtheirexpectations.Thecommitteehadseenwiththeir owneyesgold takenout of the sand andgravel to the amountof twentydollars in the two short hours of their examination. And the work had beenperformed in thestupidest,clumsiest,yetPATIENTChineseway.Whatmightnot white men do with better appointed machinery! A syndicate was at onceformed.SeeYupwasoffered twenty thousanddollars ifhewouldselloutandputthesyndicateinpossessionoftheclaimintwenty-fourhours.TheChinamanreceivedtheofferstolidly.Asheseemedinclinedtohesitate,Iamgrievedtosaythat it was intimated to him that if he declined he might be subject toembarrassing and expensive legal proceedings to prove his property, and thatcompanieswouldbeformedto"prospect"thegroundoneithersideofhisheapoftailings.SeeYupatlastconsented,withtheprovisothatthemoneyshouldbepaidingoldintothehandsofaChineseagentinSanFranciscoonthedayofthedelivery of the claim. The syndicatemade no opposition to this characteristicprecautionoftheChinaman.Itwaslikethemnottotravelwithmoney,andtheimplied uncomplimentary suspicion of danger from the community wasoverlooked. See Yup departed the day that the syndicate took possession. Hecametoseemebeforehewent.Icongratulatedhimuponhisgoodfortune;atthesametime,Iwasembarrassedbytheconvictionthathewasunfairlyforcedintoasaleofhispropertyatafigurefarbelowitsrealvalue.

Ithinkdifferentlynow.

Attheendoftheweekitwassaidthatthenewcompanyclearedupaboutthreehundreddollars.Thiswasnotsomuchasthecommunityhadexpected,butthesyndicatewas apparently satisfied, and the newmachinerywasput up.At theendof thenextweekthesyndicateweresilentas to theirreturns.Oneof themmadeahurriedvisittoSanFrancisco.ItwassaidthathewasunabletoseeeitherSeeYuportheagenttowhomthemoneywaspaid.ItwasalsonoticedthattherewasnoChinamanremaininginthesettlement.Thenthefatalsecretwasout.

TheheapoftailingshadprobablyneveryieldedtheSeeYupcompanymorethantwenty dollars a week, the ordinary wage of such a company. See Yup hadconceived the brilliant idea of "booming" it on a borrowed capital of five

hundreddollars ingold-dust,whichheOPENLYtransmittedbyexpress tohisconfederateandcreditorinSanFrancisco,whointurnSECRETLYsentitbackto See Yup by coolie messengers, to be again openly transmitted to SanFrancisco.Thepackageof gold-dustwas thus passedbackwards and forwardsbetween debtor and creditor, to the grave edification of theExpressCompanyandthefatalcuriosityofthesettlement.Whenthesyndicatehadgorgedthebaitthus thrownout,SeeYup,on theday the self-invitedcommittee inspected theclaim,promptly"salted"thetailingsbyCONSCIENTIOUSLYDISTRIBUTINGTHE GOLD-DUST OVER IT so deftly that it appeared to be its naturalcompositionandyield.

I have only to bid farewell to See Yup, and close this reminiscence of amisunderstoodman,byaddingtheopinionofaneminentjuristinSanFrancisco,towhom the factswere submitted: "Socleverwas this alleged fraud, that it isextremelydoubtfulifanactionwouldlieagainstSeeYupinthepremises,therebeing no legal evidence of the 'salting,' and none whatever of his actualallegation that the gold-dust was the ORDINARY yield of the tailings, thatimplication resting entirely with the committee who examined it under falsepretense,andwhosubsequentlyforcedthesalebyintimidation."

THEDESBOROUGHCONNECTIONS

"Thenitisn'taquestionofpropertyornextofkin?"saidtheconsul.

"Lord! no," said the lady vivaciously. "Why, goodness me! I reckon oldDesboroughcould,atanytimebeforehedied,have 'boughtup'or 'boughtout'thewhole lotofhis relativeson thissideof thebigpond,nomatterwhat theywereworth.No,it'sonlyamatterofcuriosityandjustsociableness."

TheAmericanconsulatSt.Kentigornfeltmuchrelieved.Hehadfeareditwasonly the old story of delusive quests for imaginary estates and impossibleinheritanceswhichhehadconfrontedsoofteninnervouswan-eyedenthusiastsandobstreperousclaimantsfromhisownland.Certainlytherewasnosuggestionof this in the richly dressed and be-diamondedmatron before him, nor in herpretty daughter, charming in a Paris frock, alive with the consciousness ofbeauty and admiration, and yet a little ennuye from gratified indulgence. Heknewthemother tobethewealthywidowofaNewYorkmillionaire, thatshe

wastravelingforpleasureinEurope,andachancemeetingwithheratdinnerafewnightsbeforehad led to thishalf-capricious,half-confidentialappointmentattheconsulate.

"No,"continuedMrs.Desborough;"Mr.DesboroughcametoAmerica,whenasmall boy, with an uncle who died some years ago. Mr. Desborough neverseemed to hankermuch after hisEnglish relatives as long as I knewhim, butnowthatIandSadieareoverhere,whyweguessedwemightlook'emupandsortofsample'em!'Desborough''sratheragoodname,"addedthelady,withacomplacencythat,however,hadasuggestionofqueryinit.

"Yes,"saidtheconsul;"fromtheFrench,Ifancy."

"Mr.DesboroughwasEnglish—veryEnglish,"correctedthelady.

"ImeanitmaybeanoldNormanname,"saidtheconsul.

'Norman'sgoodenoughforME,"saidthedaughter,reflecting."We'lljustsettleitasNorman.IneverthoughtaboutthatDES."

"Onlyyoumayfinditcalled 'Debborough'here,andspeltso,"saidtheconsul,smiling.

Miss Desborough lifted her pretty shoulders and made a charming grimace."Thenwewon'tacknowledge'em.NoDebboroughforme!"

"You might put an advertisement in the papers, like the 'next of kin' notice,intimating, in the regular way, that they would 'hear of something to theiradvantage'—as they certainly would," continued the consul, with a bow. "ItwouldbesucharefreshingchangetothekindofthingI'maccustomedto,don'tyouknow—this ideaof oneofmy countrywomen comingover just to benefitEnglishrelatives!ByJove!Iwouldn'tmindundertakingthewholethingforyou—it'ssuchanovelty."Hewasquitecarriedawaywiththeidea.

Butthetwoladieswerefarfromparticipatinginthisjoyousoutlook."No,"saidMrs. Desborough promptly, "that wouldn't do. You see," she went on withsuperb frankness, "that would be just giving ourselves away, and sayingwhoWEwerebeforewefoundoutwhatTHEYwere like.Mr.DesboroughwasallrightinHISway,butwedon'tknowanythingabouthisFOLKS!Weain'thereonamissiontoimprovetheDesboroughs,nortogatherinany'losttribes.'"

Itwasevident that, in spiteof thehumorof the situationand the levityof theladies, there was a characteristic national practicalness about them, and theconsul,withasigh,atlastgavetheaddressofoneortworesponsibleexpertsingenealogical inquiry,ashehadoftendonebefore.Hefelt itwas impossible toofferanyadvicetoladiesasthoroughlycapableofmanagingtheirownaffairsashisfaircountrywomen,yethewasnotwithoutsomecuriositytoknowtheresultof theirpractical sentimentalquest.Thatheshouldeverhearof themagainhedoubted.Heknewthataftertheirfirstlonelinesshadwornoffintheirgregariousgathering at a London hotel they were not likely to consort with their owncountry people,who indeedwere apt to fight shyof one another, and even toindulge in invidious criticism of one anotherwhen admitted in that society towhich theywere all equally strangers. So he took leave of themon theirwaybacktoLondonwiththebeliefthattheiracquaintanceterminatedwiththatbriefincident.Buthewasmistaken.

Intheyearfollowinghewasspendinghisautumnvacationatacountryhouse.Itwasanhistorichouse,andhadalwaysstruckhimasbeing—eveninthatcountryof historic seats—a singular example of the vicissitudes of English manorialestates and themutations of its lords.His host in his prime had been recalledfromforeignservicetounexpectedlysucceedtoanuncle'stitleandestate.Thatestate, however, had come into the possession of the uncle only through hismarriagewith thedaughter of anold familywhoseportraits still lookeddownfrom the walls upon the youngest and alien branch. There were likenesses,effigies,memorials,andreminiscencesofstillolderfamilieswhohadoccupieditthroughforfeiturebywarorthefavoritismofkings,andinitsstatelycloistersandruinedchapelwasstill felt thedeadhandof itsevictedreligiousfounders,whichcouldnotbeshakenoff.

It was this strange individuality that affected all who saw it. For, howeverchangedwere thosewithin itswalls,whoeverwere its inheritorsor inhabiters,Scrooby Priory never changed nor altered its own character. Howeverincongruousor ill-assorted theportraits that looked from itswalls,—so illmetthattheymighthaveflownatoneanother'sthroatsinthelongnightswhenthefamilywereaway,—thegreathouseitselfwasindependentofthemall.Thebe-wigged,be-laced,andbe-furbelowedofoneday'sgathering, theround-headed,steel-fronted, and prim-kerchiefed congregation of another day, and even theblack-coated, bare-armed, and bare-shouldered assemblage of to-day had noeffectontheausteritiesofthePriory.Modernhousesmightshowthetastesandprepossessions of their dwellers,might have caught some passing trick of the

hour, or have recorded the augmented fortunes or luxuriousness of the owner,but Scrooby Priory never! No one had dared even to disturb its outer rigidintegrity; the breaches of time and siegewere left untouched. It held its calmindifferentswayoverallwhopasseditslow-archedportals,andtheconsulwasfaintobelievethathe—aforeignvisitor—wasnomorealientothehousethanitspresentowner.

"I'm expecting a very charming compatriot of yours to-morrow," said LordBeverdale as they drove from the station together. "Youmust tellmewhat toshowher."

"I should think any countrywoman of mine would be quite satisfied with thePriory," said the consul, glancing thoughtfully towards the pile dimly seenthroughthepark.

"I shouldn't likeher tobeboredhere," continuedBeverdale. "Algymether atRome,where shewas occupying a palacewith hermother—they're very rich,you know.He found shewas stayingwithLadyMinever atHedhamTowers,andIwentoverandinvitedherwithalittleparty.She'saMissDesborough."

Theconsulgaveaslightstart,andwasawarethatBeverdalewaslookingathim.

"Perhapsyouknowher?"saidBeverdale.

"Justenoughtoagreewithyouthatsheischarming,"said theconsul."Idinedwiththem,andsawthemattheconsulate."

"Ohyes;Ialwaysforgetyouareaconsul.Then,ofcourse,youknowallaboutthem.Isupposethey'reveryrich,andinsocietyoverthere?"saidBeverdaleinavoicethatwasquiteanimated.

It was on the consul's lips to say that the late Mr. Desborough was anEnglishman,andeven tospeakplayfullyof theirproposedquest,butasuddeninstinctwithheldhim.Afterall,perhapsitwasonlyacaprice,oridea,theyhadforgotten,—perhaps,whoknows?—thattheywerealreadyashamedof.Theyhadevidently"goton"inEnglishsociety,ifthatwastheirrealintent,anddoubtlessMiss Desborough, by this time, was quite as content with the chance ofbecomingrelatedtotheEarlofBeverdale,throughhissonandheir,Algernon,asiftheyhadfoundarealLordDesboroughamongtheirownrelatives.TheconsulknewthatLordBeverdalewasnotarichman,thatlikemostmenofoldfamily

he was not a slave to class prejudice; indeed, the consul had seen very fewnoblemenoffthestageoroutofthepagesofanovelwhowere.Sohesaid,withaslightaffectationofauthority,thattherewasaslittledoubtoftheyounglady'swealthastherewasofherpersonalattractions.

They were nearing the house through a long avenue of chestnuts whosevariegatedleaveswerealreadybeginningtostrewthegroundbeneath,andtheycouldsee thevistaopenuponthemullionedwindowsof thePriory, lightedupby the yellow October sunshine. In that sunshine stood a tall, clean-limbedyoungfellow,dressedinashooting-suit,whomtheconsulrecognizedatonceasLord Algernon, the son of his companion. As if to accent the graces of thisvisionofyouthandvigor,nearhim,intheshadow,anoldmanhadhalted,hatinhand,stillholdingtherakewithwhichhehadbeengatheringthedeadleavesinthe avenue; his back bent, partly with years, partly with the obeisance of aservitor. There was something so marked in this contrast, in this old manstandingintheshadowofthefadingyear,himselfasdriedandwitheredastheleaveshewasraking,yetpausingtomakehisreverencetothispassingsunshineofyouthandprosperityinthepresenceofhiscomingmaster,thattheconsul,astheysweptby,lookedafterhimwithastirringofpain.

"Ratheranoldmantobestillatwork,"saidtheconsul.

Beverdalelaughed."Youmustnotlethimhearyousayso;heconsidershimselfquite as fit as anyyoungerman in theplace, and,by Jove! thoughhe'snearlyeighty,I'minclinedtobelieveit.He'snotoneofourpeople,however;hecomesfromthevillage,andistakenonatoddtimes,partlytopleasehimself.Hisgreataimistobeindependentofhischildren,—hehasagranddaughterwhoisoneofthemaidsatthePriory,—andtokeephimselfoutoftheworkhouse.Hedoesnotcomefromtheseparts—somewherefarthernorth,Ifancy.Buthe'satoughlot,andhasadealofworkinhimyet."

"Seemstobegoingabitstalelately,"saidLordAlgernon,"andIthinkisgettingalittlequeerinhishead.Hehasatrickofstoppingandstaringstraightahead,attimes,whenheseemstogooffforaminuteortwo.There!"continuedtheyoungman,withalightlaugh."Isay!he'sdoingitnow!"Theybothturnedquicklyandgazed at the bent figure—not fifty yards away—standing in exactly the sameattitudeasbefore.But,evenastheygazed,heslowlyliftedhisrakeandbeganhismonotonousworkagain.

AtScroobyPriory,theconsulfoundthatthefameofhisfaircountrywomanhadindeedprecededher,andthattheotherguestswerequiteasanxioustoseeMissDesborough as hewas.One of them had alreadymet her in London; anotherknewher asoneof thehouseparty at theDukeofNorthforeland's,where shehad been a central figure. Someof her naive sallies and frank criticismswererepeatedwithgreatunctionby thegentlemen,andwithsomeslight trepidationanda"fearfuljoy"bytheladies.Hewasmorethaneverconvincedthatmotherand daughter had forgotten their linealDesboroughs, and he resolved to leaveanyallusiontoittotheyoungladyherself.

She, however, availed herself of that privilege the evening after her arrival."Who'dhavethoughtofmeetingYOUhere?"shesaid,sweepingherskirtsawaytomakeroomforhimonasofa."It'sacoon'sagesince I sawyou—notsinceyougaveusthatlettertothosegenealogicalgentlemeninLondon."

Theconsulhopedthatithadprovedsuccessful.

"Yes, butmaw guessedwe didn't care to go back to Hengist andHorsa, andwhen they let loose a lot of 'Debboroughs' and 'Daybrooks' upon us, mawkicked!We've got a drawing ten yards long, that looks like a sour apple tree,withlotsofDesboroughshanginguponthebrancheslikelastyear'spippins,andI guess about asworm-eaten.We took thatwell enough, butwhen it came togivingusamapofstraightlinesanddasheswithnameswrittenunderthemlikeanoldMorsetelegraphslip,struckbylightning,thenmawandIguessedthatitmadeustired.

"You know," shewent on, opening her clear gray eyes on the consul, with acharacteristicflashofshrewdgoodsense throughherquainthumor,"weneverreckoned where this thing would land us, and we found we were paying ahundred pounds, not only for the Desboroughs, but all the people they'dMARRIED,andtheirCHILDREN,andchildren'schildren,andtherewerealotofoutsiderswe'dneverheardof,norwantedtohearof.Mawoncethoughtshe'dgoton the trailofaPlantagenet,andfollowed itkeen,untilshefoundshehadbeen reading thedreadful thingupsidedown.Thenweconcludedwewouldn'ttakeanymorestockinthefamilyuntilithadrisen."

Duringthisspeechtheconsulcouldnothelpnoticingthat,althoughherattitudewasplayfullyconfidential tohim,hervoice reallywaspitchedhighenough toreach the earsof smaller groups aroundher,whowerenotonly followingher

with the intensest admiration, but had shamelessly abandoned their ownconversation, and had even faced towards her. Was she really posing in hernaivete?Therewasacertainmischievous,evenaggressive,consciousnessinherprettyeyelids.Thenshesuddenlydroppedbotheyesandvoice,andsaidtotheconsulinagenuineaside,"Ilikethissortofthingmuchbetter."

Theconsullookedpuzzled."Whatsortofthing?"

"Why, all these swell people, don't you see? those pictures on thewalls! thiselegantroom!everythingthathascomedownfromthepast,allreadyandsettledforyou,youknow—agesago!Somethingyouhaven'ttopickupforyourselfandworryover."

But here the consul pointed out that the place itself was not "ancestral" asregardedthepresentearl,andthateventheoriginaltitleofhispredecessorshadpassedawayfromit."Infact,itcameintothefamilybyoneofthose'outsiders'youdeprecate.ButIdaresayyou'dfindtheplacequiteascomfortablewithLordBeverdale forahostasyouwould ifyouhadfoundouthewereacousin,"headded.

"Better,"saidtheyoungladyfrankly.

"Isupposeyourmotherparticipatesinthesepreferences?"saidtheconsul,withasmile.

"No,"saidMissDesborough,withthesamefrankness,"Ithinkmaw'srathercutupatnot findingaDesborough.Shewas inviteddownhere,butSHE'S ratherindependent,youknow, so sheallowed I could takecareofmyself,while shewentoff tostaywith theoldDowagerLadyMistowe,who thinksmawaveryproper womanly person. I made mawmad by telling her that's just what oldLadyMistowewouldsayofhercook—forIcan'tstandthesepeople'spatronage.However,Ishouldn'twonderifIwasinvitedhereasa'mostoriginalperson.'"

But here Lord Algernon came up to implore her to sing them one of "thoseplantation songs;" and Miss Desborough, with scarcely a change of voice ormanner,allowedherself tobe led to thepiano.Theconsulhad littlechance tospeakwithheragain,buthesawenoughthateveningtoconvincehimnotonlythatLordAlgernonwasverymuchinlovewithher,but that thefacthadbeenequally and complacently accepted by the family and guests.That her presentvisitwasonlyanopportunityforaformalengagementwascleartoeverywoman

in thehouse—notexcepting, I fear,even thefairsubjectofgossipherself.Yetsheseemedsounconcernedandself-contained that theconsulwondered ifshereally cared for Lord Algernon. And having thus wondered, he came to theconclusion that it didn't much matter, for the happiness of so practicallyorganizedayounglady,ifshelovedhimornot.

ItishighlyprobablethatMissSadieDesboroughhadnotevengonesofarastoask herself that question. She awoke the next morning with a sense of easyvictory and calm satisfaction that had, however, none of the transports ofaffection.Her tastewas satisfiedby the loveof ahandsomeyoung fellow,—atypicalEnglishman,—who, ifnot exactlyoriginalor ideal,was, she felt, of anuniversallyaccepted,"hall-marked"standard,thelegitimateoutcomeofahighlyordered,carefullyguardedcivilization,whosereposewastheabsenceofstruggleorambition;amanwhoseregularfeatureswerenotyetdifferentiatedfromtherest of his class by any of those disturbing lines which people call character.Everything wasmade ready for her, without care or preparation; she had noteven an ideal to realize or to modify. She could slip without any jar ordislocationintothislifewhichwasjustsavedfromself-indulgenceandsybariticluxurybycertainconventionalrulesofactivityandtheoccupationofamusementwhich,asobligationsofherposition,evenappearedtosuggestthenovelaspectofaDUTY!Shecouldacceptallthiswithoutthesenseofbeinganintruderinanunbrokenlineage—thankstotheconsul'saccountoftheBeverdales'inheritance.Shealreadypicturedherselfasthemistressofthisfairdomain,thecustodianofits treasures and traditions, and the dispenser of its hospitalities, but—as sheconscientiously believed—without pride or vanity, in her position; only anintenseandthoughtfulappreciationofit.Nordidshedreamofeverdisplayingitostentatiously before her less fortunate fellowcountrywomen; on the contrary,shelookedforwardtotheirpossiblecriticismofhercastingoffalltransatlanticties with an uneasy consciousness that was perhaps her nearest approach topatriotism.Yet,again,shereasoned that,asherfatherwasanEnglishman,shewasonlyreturningtoheroldhome.Astohermother,shehadalreadycomfortedherself bynoticing certaindiscrepancies in that lady's temperament,which ledhertobelievethatsheherselfaloneinheritedherfather'snature—forhermotherwas,ofcourse,distinctlyAmerican!Solittleconsciouswassheofanypossiblesnobbishnessinthisbelief,thatinhersuperbnaiveteshewouldhavearguedthepoint with the consul, and employed a wit and dialect that were purelyAmerican.

ShehadslippedoutofthePrioryearlythatmorningthatshemightenjoyalone,

unattendedandunciceroned, theaspectof thatvastestatewhichmightbehersfor the mere accepting. Perhaps there was some instinct of delicacy in heravoidingLordAlgernon thatmorning; notwishing, as she herselfmight havefranklyput it, "to takestock"ofhis inheritance inhispresence.Asshepassedinto the garden through the low postern door, she turned to look along thestretching facade of the main building, with the high stained windows of itsbanqueting-hallandthestatechamberwhereakinghadslept.EveninthatcrispOctoberair, andwith thegreenof its iviedbattlementsagainst thegoldof thedistantwood, it seemed to lie in the languid reposeofaneternal summer.Shehurried on down the other terrace into the Italian garden, a quaint survival ofpastgrandeur,passedthegreatorangeryandnumerousconservatories,makingacrystalhamletinthemselves—seeingeverywherethesameluxury.Butitwasaluxury that she fanciedwas redeemed from thevulgarityof ostentationby thelong customof years andgenerations, so unlike themillionaire palaces of herownland;and, inherenthusiasm,sheevenfancieditwasfurthersanctifiedbythegrimmonasticfounderswhohadoncebeencontentwithbreadandpulseinthecrumblinganddismantledrefectory.Intheplenitudeofherfeelingsshefeltaslightrecognitionofsomebeneficentbeingwhohadrolledthisgoldenappleatherfeet,andfeltasifshereallyshouldliketo"dogood"inhersphere.

Itsochancedthat,passingthroughasmallgateinthepark,shesawwalking,alittleaheadofher,ayounggirlwhomsheatoncerecognizedasaMissAmelyn,oneoftheguestsoftheeveningbefore.MissDesboroughrememberedthatsheplayed the accompaniment of one or two songs upon the piano, and had evenexecutedalongsoloduringthegeneralconversation,withoutattentionfromtheothers, andapparentlywith little irritation toherself, subsidingafterwards intoan armchair, quite on the fringe of other people's conversation. She had beencalled"mydear"byoneortwodowagers,andbyherChristiannamebytheearl,andhadawayofimpalpablymeltingoutofsightattimes.ThesetriflesledMissDesboroughtoconcludethatshewassomekindofdependentorpoorrelation.Herewasanopportunitytobeginherworkof"doinggood."ShequickenedherpaceandovertookMissAmelyn.

"Letmewalkwithyou,"shesaidgraciously.

The young English girl smiled assent, but looked her surprise at seeing thecynosureoflastnight'seyesunattended.

"Oh,"saidSadie,answeringthemutequery,"Ididn'twanttobe 'shownround'

by anybody, and I'm not going to boreYOUwith asking to see sights either.We'lljustwalktogether;whereverYOU'REgoingisgoodenoughforme."

"I'mgoingasfarasthevillage,"saidMissAmelyn,lookingdowndoubtfullyatSadie'ssmartFrenchshoes—"ifyoucaretowalksofar."

Sadienoticedthathercompanionwasmoresolidlybooted,andthatherstraight,short skirts, although less stylish than her own, had a certain character, betterfittedtothefreeroutdoorlifeofthecountry.Butsheonlysaid,however,"Thevillagewilldo,"andgaylytookhercompanion'sarm.

"ButI'mafraidyou'llfinditveryuninteresting,forIamgoingtovisitsomepoorcottages,"persistedMissAmelyn,withacertaintimidingenuousnessofmannerwhich, however, was as distinct as Miss Desborough's bolder frankness. "Ipromisedtherector'sdaughtertotakeherplaceto-day."

"And I feel as if I was ready to pour oil and wine to any extent," saidMissDesborough,"socomealong!"

MissAmelynlaughed,andyetglancedaroundhertimidly,asifshethoughtthatMissDesboroughoughttohavealargerandmoreimportantaudience.Thenshecontinuedmoreconfidentiallyandboldly,"Butitisn'tatalllike'slumming,'youknow.Thesepoorpeopleherearenotverybad,andarenotatallextraordinary."

"Nevermind,"saidSadie,hurryingheralong.Afterapauseshewenton,"YouknowthePrioryverywell,Iguess?"

"I lived there when I was a little girl, with my aunt, the Dowager LadyBeverdale,"saidMissAmelyn."WhenmycousinFred,whowastheyoungheir,died, and the present Lord Beverdale succeeded,—HE never expected it, youknow, for there were two lives, his two elder brothers, besides poor Fred's,between,buttheybothdied,—wewenttoliveintheDowerHouse."

"TheDowerHouse?"repeatedSadie.

"Yes,LadyBeverdale'sseparateproperty."

"But I thought all this property—the Priory—came into the family throughHER."

"It did—this was the Amelyns' place; but the oldest son or nearest male heiralwayssucceedstothepropertyandtitle."

"DoyoumeantosaythatthepresentLordBeverdaleturnedthatoldladyout?"

Miss Amelyn looked shocked. "I mean to say," she said gravely, "LadyBeverdale would have had to go when her own son became of age, had helived."Shepaused,andthensaidtimidly,"Isn'titthatwayinAmerica?"

"Dearno!"MissDesboroughhadafaintrecollectionthattherewassomethingintheConstitutionortheDeclarationofIndependenceagainstprimogeniture."No!themenhaven'titALLtheirownwayTHERE—notmuch!"

MissAmelynlookedasifshedidnotcaretodiscussthisproblem.Afterafewmoments Sadie continued, "You and Lord Algernon are pretty old friends, Iguess?"

"No," replied Miss Amelyn. "He came once or twice to the Priory for theholidays,whenhewasquiteaboyatMarlborough—forthefamilyweren'tverywelloff,andhisfatherwasinIndia.Hewasaveryshyboy,andofcoursenooneeverthoughtofhimsucceeding."

MissDesboroughfelthalfinclinedtobepleasedwiththis,andyethalfinclinedtoresentthispossiblesnubbingofherfuturehusband.Buttheywerenearingthevillage, andMissAmelyn turned the conversation to the object of her visit. Itwasanewvillage—anunhandsomevillage,forallthatitstoodnearoneofthegatesofthepark.Ithadbeengivenovertosomeminesthatwerestillworkedinitsvicinity,andtotherailway,whichtheuncleofthepresentearlhadresisted;but the railway had triumphed, and the station for Scrooby Priory was there.Therewas a grimchurch, of a blackenedorweather-beaten stone, on the hill,withafewgrimAmelynsreposingcross-leggedinthechancel,butthecharacterof thevillagewas asdifferent from thePriory as if itwere in another county.Theystoppedat the rectory,whereMissAmelynprovidedherselfwithcertaindoles and gifts, which the American girl would have augmented with a five-poundnotebutforMissAmelyn'shorrifiedconcern."Asmanyshillingswoulddo,andtheywouldbeasgrateful,"shesaid."Moretheywouldn'tunderstand."

"Thenkeepit,anddoleitoutasyoulike,"saidSadiequickly.

"But I don't think that—that Lord Beverdale would quite approve," hesitated

MissAmelyn.

Theprettybrowofhercompanionknit,andhergrayeyesflashedvivaciously."WhathasHEtodowithit?"shesaidpertly;"besides,yousaythesearenotHISpoor. Take that five-pound note—or—I'll DOUBLE it, get it changed intosovereignsatthestation,andhand'emroundtoeveryman,woman,andchild."

Miss Amelyn hesitated. TheAmerican girl looked capable of doingwhat shesaid;perhaps itwasanationalwayofalmsgiving!She took thenote,with thementalreservationofmakingafullconfessiontotherectorandLordBeverdale.

Shewas right in saying that the poor of Scrooby villagewere not interesting.Therewasverylittlesqualorordegradation;theirpovertyseemednotadescent,but a condition towhich theyhadbeenborn; the faceswhichSadie sawweredulled and apathetic rather than sullenor rebellious; they stoodupwhenMissAmelynentered,payingHER thedeference,but taking littlenoteof theprettybutterflywhowaswithher,orrathersubmittingtoherfrankcuriositywiththatdullconsentofthepoor,asiftheyhadlosteventhesenseofprivacy,orarighttorespect.ItseemedtotheAmericangirlthattheirpovertywasmoreindicatedbywhattheywereSATISFIEDwiththanwhatshethoughttheyMISSED.Itistobe feared that thisdidnot add toSadie's sympathy; all thebeggars shehadseeninAmericawantedalltheycouldget,andshefeltasifshewereconfrontedwithaninferioranimal.

"There's a wonderful old man lives here," said Miss Amelyn, as they haltedbeforeastoneandthatchcottagequiteontheoutskirtsofthevillage."Wecan'tcall himone of our poor, for he stillworks, although over eighty, and it's hispride to keep out of the poorhouse, and, as he calls it, 'off' the hands of hisgranddaughters.Butwemanage to do something for THEM, andwe hope heprofitsbyit.OneofthemisatthePriory;they'retryingtomakeamaidofher,butherqueeraccent—they'refromthenorth—isagainstherwiththeservants.Iamafraidwewon'tseeoldDebs,forhe'satworkagainto-day,thoughthedoctorhaswarnedhim."

"Debs!Whatafunnyname!"

"Yes,butasmanyofthesepeoplecannotreadorwrite, thenameiscarriedbytheear,andnotalwayscorrectly.Someoftherailwaynavvies,whocomefromthenorthashedoes,callhim'Debbers.'"

Theywereobligedtodescendintothecottage,whichwassolowthatitseemedtohavesunk into theearthuntil itsdroopingeavesof thatchmingledwith thestrawheapbeside it.Debswasnot at home.Buthisgranddaughterwas there,who,afterapreliminary"bob,"continuedthestirringofthepotbeforethefireintentativesilence.

"Iamsorrytofindthatyourgrandfatherhasgonetoworkagaininspiteofthedoctor'sorders,"saidMissAmelyn.

Thegirlcontinuedtostirthepot,andthensaidwithoutlookingup,butasifalsocontinuinga trainofaggressive thoughtswithheroccupation:"Eay,but 'e'ssosetoop in 'issen 'eedoan't takeorders fromnobbut—leastwaysdoctor.Moinds'emnowmoornorafloy.Says'eeknawstherenowtwrongwi''is'eart.Moutberoight—how'siver, sarten sewer, 'is 'EAD'Sa' in amuddle!Toims 'eegoesoffstamrin'andstarin'atnowt,asif'eea'ntan'aportho'sense.How'siverIbedoingmydutyby'em—and'ere's'isporritchwhena'cooms—'gina'besickormaad."

What the American understood of the girl's speech andmanner struck her ashavingvery little sympathywitheitherheraged relativeorherpresentvisitor.And there was a certain dogged selfish independence about her that MissDesboroughhalflikedandhalfresented.However,MissAmelyndidnotseemtonoticeit,and,afterleavingabottleofportforthegrandfather,shetookherleaveandledSadieaway.Astheypassedintothevillageacarriage,returningtothePriory,filledwiththeirfellowguests,dashedby,butwasinstantlypulledupataword from Lord Algernon, who leaped from the vehicle, hat in hand, andimploredthefairtruantandhercompaniontojointhem.

"We'rejustmakingatouraroundWindoverHill,andbacktoluncheon,"hesaid,witharisingcolor."Wemissedyouawfully!Ifwehadknownyouweresokeenon'goodworks,'andsoearlyatit,byJove!we'dhavegotupa'slummin'party,'andalljoined!"

"Andyouhaven'tseenhalf,"saidLordBeverdalefromthebox."MissAmelyn'stoopartialtothevillage.There'sanolddrunkenretiredpoachersomewhereinahutinCrawleyWoods,whomit'sdeathtoapproach,exceptwithalargeparty.There'smalignantdiphtheriaoverattheSouthFarm,eightdownwithmeaslesatthekeeper's,andanoldwomanwhohasbeenbedriddenforyears."

ButMissDesboroughwasadamant,thoughsparkling.Shethankedhim,butsaid

shehad just seenanoldwoman"whohadbeen lying inbed for twentyyears,and hadn't spoken the truth once!" She proposed "going outside of LordBeverdale'sownpreservesofgrain-fedpoor,"andstartingupherowngame.Shewould return in time for luncheon—ifshecould; ifnot, she"shouldannex thegruelofthefirstkindincapableshemet."

Yet, actually, shewas far fromdispleased at being accidentally discovered bythese peoplewhile followingout her capriciouswhimof themorning.Oneortwoelderladies,whohadfoughtshyofherfrocksandherfranknesstheeveningbefore,werequitetouchednowbythisbutterflywhowaswillingtoforegothesunlightofsociety,andsoilherprettywingsonthehauntsoftheimpoverished,withonlyasinglecompanion,—ofherownsex!—andsmiledapprovingly.Andin her present state of mind, remembering her companion's timid attitudetowardsLordBeverdale'sopinions,shewasnotaboveadministeringthisslightsnubtohiminherpresence.

When they had driven away, with many regrets, Miss Amelyn was deeplyconcerned. "I am afraid," she said,with timid conscientiousness, "I have keptyoufromgoingwiththem.Andyoumustbeboredwithwhatyouhaveseen,Iknow.Idon'tbelieveyoureallycareonebitforit—andyouareonlydoingittopleaseme."

"Trot out the rest of your show," said Sadie promptly, "andwe'llwind up bylunchingwiththerector."

"He'd be too delighted," saidMiss Amelyn, with disaster written all over hergirlish,truthfulface,"but—but—youknow—itreallywouldn'tbequiterighttoLordBeverdale.You'rehisprincipalguest—youknow,and—they'dthinkIhadtakenyouoff."

"Well," saidMissDesborough impetuously, "what's thematterwith that inn—theRedLion?Wecangetasandwichthere,Iguess.I'mnotVERYhungry."

MissAmelynlookedhorrifiedforamoment,andthenlaughed;butimmediatelybecameconcernedagain. "No! listen tome,REALLYnow!Letme finishmyround alone! You'll have ample time if you go NOW to reach the Priory forluncheon.Do,please!Itwouldbeeversomuchbetterforeverybody.Ifeelquiteguiltyasitis,andIsupposeIamalreadyinLordBeverdale'sblackbooks."

The trouble in the young girl's face was unmistakable, and as it suited Miss

Desborough'spurposejustaswelltoshowherindependencebyreturning,asshehad set out, alone, she consented to go.MissAmelyn showed her a short cutacrossthepark,andtheyseparated—tomeetatdinner.Inthisbrieffellowship,the American girl had kept a certain supremacy and half-fascination over theEnglish girl, evenwhile shewas conscious of an invincible character inMissAmelynentirelydifferent fromand superior toherown.Certainly therewasadifference in the two peoples.Why else this inherited conscientious reverenceforLordBeverdale'sposition,shownbyMissAmelyn,whichshe,anAmericanalive to its practical benefits, could not understand?WouldMissAmelyn andLordAlgernonhavemadeabettermatch?Thethoughtirritatedher,evenwhileshe knew that she herself possessed the youngman's affections, the power tomarryhim,and,asshebelieved,keptherownindependenceinthematter.

As she entered the irongates at the lower endof thepark, andglanced at theinterwovencipherandcrestoftheAmelynsstillabove,shewasconsciousthatthewindwas blowingmore chill, and that a few clouds hadgathered.As shewalkedondownthelongwindingavenue,theskybecameovercast,and,inoneofthosestrangecontrastsoftheEnglishclimate,thegloryofthewholedaywentout with the sunshine. The woods suddenly became wrinkled and gray, thedistanthillssombre, theveryEnglish turfbeneathherfeetgrewbrown;amileand a half away, through the opening of the trees, thewest part of the Priorylooked a crumbling, ivy-eaten ruin. A few drops of rain fell. She hurried on.Suddenly she remembered that the avenue made a long circuit beforeapproachingthehouse,andthatitslowerend,whereshewaswalking,wasbutafringeofthepark.ConsequentlytheremustbeashortcutacrosssomefieldsandfarmbuildingstothebackoftheparkandthePriory.Sheatoncedivergedtotheright,presentlyfoundalowfence,whichsheclamberedover,andagainfoundafootpathwhichledtoastile.Crossingthat,shecouldseethefootpathnowleddirectly to the Priory,—now a grim and austere looking pile in the suddenlydejected landscape,—and that it was probably used only by the servants andfarmers.A gust ofwind brought some swift needles of rain to her cheek; shecouldseethesadhillsbeyondthePrioryalreadyveilingtheirfaces;shegatheredherskirtsandran.Thenextfieldwasalongone,butbesidethefurtherstilewasasmallclumpoftrees,theonlyonesbetweenherandthepark.Hurryingontothatshelter,shesawthatthestilewasalreadyoccupiedbyatallbutbentfigure,holding a long stick in his hand, which gave him the appearance, against thehorizon,ofthefigureofTimeleaningonhisscythe.Asshecamenearershesawitwas, indeed, an oldman, half resting on his rake.Hewas very rugged andweather-beaten,andalthoughneartheshelterofthetrees,apparentlyunmindful

of the rain thatwas fallingonhisbaldhead,and the limpcaphewasholdinguselesslyinonehand.Hewasstaringather,yetapparentlyunconsciousofherpresence.Asuddeninstinctcameuponher—itwas"Debs"!

Shewentdirectlyuptohim,andwiththatfrankcommonsensewhichordinarilydistinguishedher,tookhiscapfromhishandandputitonhishead,graspedhisarmfirmly,andledhimtotheshelterofthetree.Thenshewipedtheraindropsfrom his face with her handkerchief, shook out her own dress and her wetparasol,and,proppinghercompanionagainstthetree,said:—

"There, Mr. Debs! I've heard of people who didn't know enough to come inwhenitrained,butInevermetonebefore."

Theoldmanstarted,liftedhishairy,sinewyarm,baredtotheelbow,andwipedhisbare throatwith thedry sideof it.Thena lookof intelligence—albeit halfaggressive—cameintohisface."Wheerbeestthagoing?"heasked.

SomethinginhisvoicestruckSadielikeavagueecho.Perhapsitwasonlythequeerdialect—orsomeresemblancetohisgranddaughter'svoice.Shelookedathimalittlemorecloselyasshesaid:—

"TothePriory."

"Whaat?"

Shepointedwithherparasoltothegraypileinthedistance.Itwaspossiblethatthisdementedpeasantdidn'tevenUNDERSTANDEnglish.

"The hall. Oh, ay!" Suddenly his brows knit ominously as he faced her. "An'wassist tha doin' drest oop in this foinery? Wheer gettist thee that goawn?Thissen, or thy maester? Nowt even a napron, fit for thy wark as maaid atserviss;an'parsonagettin'thaplaaceatHall!Sothou'ltbehighandmoitywilltha!thou'ltnotwalkwi'maaids,but traipsebythissenlikeaslut inthetoon—dangtha!"

AlthoughitwasplaintoSadiethattheoldman,inhiswanderingperception,hadmistaken her for his granddaughter in service at the Priory, there was stillenough rudeness inhis speech forher tohave resented it.But, strange to say,there was a kind of authority in it that touched her with an uneasiness andrepulsion thatwas stronger thananyother feeling. "I thinkyouhavemistaken

meforsomeoneelse,"shesaidhurriedly,yetwonderingwhyshehadadmittedit, and even irritated at the admission. "I am a stranger here, a visitor at thePriory. I called with Miss Amelyn at your cottage, and saw your othergranddaughter;that'showIknewyourname."

Theoldman'sfacechanged.Asad,senilesmileofhopelessbewildermentcreptinto his hard mouth; he plucked his limp cap from his head and let it hangsubmissively in his fingers, as if it were his sole apology. Then he tried tostraighten himself, and said, "Nawoffins,miss, nawoffins! If tha knawsmeatha'llknawI'mgrandfeythertotwogallsasmoightbethaowernage;tha'lltell'eethatoldDebsathaatyyears 'aswarkedandniverlostadayasmanorboy;hasnivercoomeoopen'emforn'aporth.An''e'llkeepouto'warkustillhedoy.An' 'ee's put by enow to bywi' his own feythers in Lanksheer, an' not liggenaloaneinparson'schoorchyard."

Itwaspartofheruneasinessthat,scarcelyunderstandingor,indeed,feelinganyinterest in these maundering details, she still seemed to have an oddcomprehensionofhis character and some reminiscentknowledgeofhim, as ifshe were going through the repetition of some unpleasant dream. Even hiswrinkledfacewasbecomingfamiliartoher.Someweirdattractionwasholdingher; shewanted toget away from it asmuchas shewanted to analyze it.Sheglanced ostentatiously at the sky, prepared to open her parasol, and began toedgecautiouslyaway.

"Thenthabeantfromthesepearts?"hesaidsuddenly.

"No,no,"shesaidquicklyandemphatically,—"no,I'manAmerican."

The oldman started andmoved towards her, eagerly, his keen eyes breakingthrough the film that at times obscured them. "'Merrikan! tha baist 'Merrikan?ThenthaknawsmasonJohn, 'eewarnowtbutabairnwhenbretherDicktookun to 'Merriky!Naw!Now! thatwor fifty years sen!—niverwroate to his oldfeyther—nivercoomedback, 'Eewor tall-loike,an' theasaid 'e feavoredmea."Hestopped,threwuphishead,andwithhisskinnyfingersdrewbackhislong,straggling locks from his sunken cheeks, and stared in her face. The quicktransition of fascination, repulsion, shock, and indefinable apprehensionmadeher laugh hysterically. To her terror he joined in it, and eagerly clasped herwrists. "Eh, lass! tha knaws John—tha coomes from un to ole grandfeyther.Who-rr-u!Eay! but tha tho't to foolmea, did tha, lass?Whoy, I knoawed tha

voice, for a' tha foine peacock feathers. So tha be John's gell coom fromAmeriky. Dear! a dear! Coom neaur, lass! let's see what tha's loike. Eh, butthou'ltkissthagrandfather,sewerly?"

Awildterrorandundefinedconsternationhadcompletelyoverpoweredher!Butshemadeadesperateefforttofreeherwrists,andburstoutmadly:—

"Letmego!Howdareyou! Idon'tknowyouoryours! I'mnothing toyouoryourkin!Myname isDesborough—doyouunderstand—doyouhearme,Mr.Debs?—DESBOROUGH!"

At theword the oldman's fingers stiffened like steel around herwrists, as heturneduponherahard,invincibleface.

"So thou'ltcall thissenDesborough,wilt tha?Letmetell tha, then, that 'Debs,''Debban,''Debbrook,'and'Desborough'areallaseame!Ay!thyfeytherandthyfeyther'sfeyther!Thou'ltbeaDesborough,willtha?Dangtha!andlookdoononthakin,anddressthisseninsilkso'shame!Tell'eethou'rtanass,gell!Don'tthahear?Anass!forallthabeanJohn'sbairn!Anass!that'swhatthabeast!"

With flashing eyes and burning cheeks she made one more supreme effort,liftingher arms, freeingherwrists, and throwing theoldman staggering fromher.Thensheleapedthestile,turned,andfledthroughtherain.Butbeforeshereached the end of the field she stopped! She had freed herself—she wasstrongerthanhe—whathadshetofear?Hewascrazy!Yes,heMUSTbecrazy,and he had insulted her, but hewas an oldman—andGod knowswhat! Herheartwasbeatingrapidly,herbreathwashurried,butsheranbacktothestile.

He was not there. The field sloped away on either side of it. But she coulddistinguishnothinginthepouringrainabovethewind-sweptmeadow.Hemusthavegonehome.RelievedforamomentsheturnedandhurriedontowardsthePriory.

Butateverystepshewasfollowed,notbytheoldman'spresence,butbywhathe had said to her, which she could not shake off as she had shaken off hisdetainingfingers.Wasittheravingsofinsanity,orhadshestumbledunwittinglyuponsomesecret—wasitafterallaSECRET?Perhapsitwassomethingtheyallknew,orwouldknowlater.Andshehadcomedownhereforthis.Forbackofher indignation, back even of her disbelief in his insanity, therewas an awfulsense of truth! The names he had flung out, of "Debs," "Debban," and

"Debbrook"nowflasheduponherassomethingshehadseenbefore,buthadnotunderstood. Until she satisfied herself of this, she felt she could not live orbreathe!SheloathedthePriory,withitsaustereexclusiveness,asitrosebeforeher; shewishedshehadneverentered it;but it contained thatwhich shemustknow, and know at once! She entered the nearest door and ran up the grandstaircase.Herflushedfaceanddisorderedappearancewereeasilyaccountedforbyherexposuretothesuddenstorm.Shewenttoherbedroom,senthermaidtoanother room to prepare a change of dress, and sinking down before hertraveling-desk,gropedforadocument.Ah!thereitwas—theexpensivetoythatshe had played with! She hastily ran over its leaves to the page she alreadyremembered. And there, among the dashes and perpendicular lines she hadjestedover lastnight,onwhichshehad thoughtwasacollateralbranchof theline, stoodher father'snameand thatofRichard,hisuncle,with thebracketednoteinredink,"seeDebbrook,Daybrook,Debbers,andDebs."Yes!thisgaunt,half-crazy, overworked peasant, content to rake the dead leaves before therollingchariotsof theBeverdales,washergrandfather; thatpoorlycladgirl inthecottage,andeventhemenialinthesculleryofthisveryhousethatmightbeHERS, were her COUSINS! She burst into a laugh, and then refolded thedocumentandputitaway.

Atluncheonshewasradiantandsparkling.Herdrenchedclotheswereanexcuseforanewandravishingtoilette.Shehadnever lookedsobeautifulbefore,andsignificantglanceswere exchangedbetween someof theguests,whobelievedthattheexpectedproposalhadalreadycome.Butthosewhowereofthecarriagepartyknewotherwise,andofLordAlgernon'sdisappointment.LordBeverdalecontented himself with rallying his fair guest on the becomingness of "goodworks."Buthecontinued, "You'reofferingadreadfulexample to these ladies,MissDesborough, and I know I shall never hereafter be able to content themwith any frivolousmorning amusement at the Priory. Formyself, when I amgrowngoutyandhideous,IknowIshallbloomagainasadistrictvisitor."

Yet under this surface sparkle and nervous exaltation Sadie never lostconsciousnessofthegravityofthesituation.Ifhersenseofhumorenabledherto see one side of its grim irony; if she experienced a wicked satisfaction inacceptingtheadmirationandeasyconfidenceofthehigh-bornguests,knowingthat her cousin had assisted in preparing the meal they were eating, she hadnever lostsightof thepracticaleffectof thediscoveryshehadmade.Andshehadcometoafinalresolution.SheshouldleavethePrioryatonce,andabandonallideaofamatrimonialalliancewithitsheir!Inconsistentasthismightseemto

her selfish,worldly nature, itwas nevertheless in keepingwith a certain prideandindependencethatwasinherblood.ShedidnotloveLordAlgernon,neitherdidshelovehergrandfather;shewasequallywillingtosacrificeeitherorboth;sheknewthatneitherLordAlgernonnorhisfatherwouldmakeherconnectionsan objection, however theymightwish to keep the fact a secret, or otherwisedisposeofthembypensionsoremigration,butshecouldnotbeartoKNOWITHERSELF! She never could be happy as themistress of Scrooby Priorywiththatknowledge;shedidnot idealize itasaprinciple!Carefullyweighing itbyherownpracticalcommonsense,shesaidtoherselfthat"itwouldn'tpay."Thehighest independenceisoftenakintothelowestselfishness;shedidnotdreamthatthesamepridewhichkepthergrandfatherfromtheworkhouseandsupportbyhisdaughters,andhadevenkepthimfromcommunicatingwithhisownson,nowkeptherfromacknowledgingthem,evenforthegiftofatitleanddomain.Therewasonlyonequestionbeforeher:shouldshestaylongenoughtoreceivetheproposalofLordAlgernon,andthendeclineit?Whyshouldshenotsnatchthatsinglefemininejoyoutoftheashesofherburnt-upillusion?Sheknewthatan opportunitywould be offered that afternoon. The partywere to take tea atBroxby Hall, and Lord Algernon was to drive her there in his dogcart. MissDesboroughhadgoneuptoherbedroomtoputonawarmercloak,andhadrungtwiceorthriceimpatientlyforhermaid.

When the girl made her appearance, apologetic, voluble, and excited, MissDesborough scarcely listened to her excuses, until a single word suddenlyarrestedherattention.Itwas"oldDebs."

"WhatAREyoutalkingabout?"saidSadie,pausingintheadjustmentofherhatonherbrownhair.

"OldDebs,miss,—that'swhattheycallhim;anoldpark-keeper,justfounddeadinapoolofwaterinthefields;thegrandfatherofoneoftheservantshere;andthere'ssuchanexcitementintheservants'hall.Thegentlemenallknewit, too,forIheardLordAlgernonsaythathewaslookingveryqueerlately,andmighthavehadafit;andLordBeverdalehassentwordtothecoroner.Andonlythink,thepeopleherearesuchfoolsthattheydaren'ttouchormovethepoorman,andhimlyin'thereintherainallthetime,untilthecoronercomes!"

MissDesboroughhadbeensteadily regardingherself in theglass to see if shehad turned pale. She had. She set her teeth together until the color partlyreturned. But she kept her face away from the maid. "That'll do," she said

quietly. "You can tellme all later. I have some important newsmyself, and Imaynotgooutafterall.Iwantyoutotakeanoteforme."Shewenttohertable,wrote a line inpencil, folded it, scribbled an addressupon it, handed it to thegirl,andgentlypushedherfromtheroom.

......

The consulwas lingering on the terrace beside one of the carriages; at a littledistance a groom was holding the nervous thoroughbred of Lord Algernon'sdogcart.Suddenlyhefeltatouchonhisshoulder,andMissDesborough'smaidputanoteinhishand.Itcontainedonlyaline:—

Pleasecomeandseemeinthelibrary,butwithoutmakinganyfussaboutit—atonce.S.D.

Theconsulglancedaroundhim;noonehadapparentlynoticedtheincident.Heslipped back into the house and made his way to the library. It was a longgallery; at the further end Miss Desborough stood cloaked, veiled, andcoquettishlyhatted.Shewaslookingverybeautifulandanimated."Iwantyoutoplease do me a great favor," she said, with an adorable smile, "as your owncountrywoman,youknow—forthesakeofFourthofJulyandPumpkinPieandtheOldFlag!Idon'twant togoto thiscircusto-day.Iamgoingto leaveheretonight!Iam!HonestInjin!IwantYOUtomanageit.Iwantyoutosaythatasconsulyou'vereceivedimportantnewsforme:thedeathofsomerelative,ifyoulike; or better, something AFFECTINGMY PROPERTY, you know," with alittlesatiricallaugh."Iguessthatwouldfetch'em!Sogoatonce."

"But really, Miss Desborough, do let us talk this over before you decide!"imploredthebewilderedconsul."Thinkwhatadisappointmenttoyourhostandthese ladies. LordAlgernon expects to drive you there; he is alreadywaiting!Thepartywasgotupforyou!"MissDesboroughmadeaslightgrimace."Imeanyououghttosacrificesomething—butItrustthereisreallynothingserious—tothem!"

"IfYOUdonotspeaktothem,Iwill!"saidMissDesboroughfirmly."Ifyousaywhat I tellyou, itwill come themoreplausibly fromyou.Come!Mymind ismadeup.Oneofusmustbreak thenews!Shall itbeyouor I?"Shedrewhercloakoverhershouldersandmadeastepforwards.

The consul saw she was determined. "Then wait here till I return, but keep

yourself out of sight," he said, and hurried away.Between the library and theterraceheconceivedaplan.Hisperplexitylenthimaseriousnesswhichbefittedthegravityof thenewshehadtodisclose."Iamsorry tohave to tellyou,"hesaid, takingLordBeverdale aside, "that Iwas theunluckybearerof some sadnews to Miss Desborough this morning, through my consular letters—somematterconcerningthedeathofarelationofhers,andsomewearisomequestionofproperty.Ithoughtthatitwasoflittleimportance,andthatshewouldnottakeit seriously, but I find I was mistaken. It may even oblige her to catch theLondontraintonight.Ipromisedtomakeherexcusestoyouforthepresent,andI'mafraidImustaddmyowntothem,asshewishesmetostayandadviseherinthismatter,whichrequiressomepromptaction."

Miss Desborough was right: the magic word "property" changed the slightannoyance on the earl's face to a sympathetic concern. "Dearme! I trust it isnothingreallyserious,"hesaid."Ofcourse,youwilladviseher,and,bytheway,ifmysolicitor,Withers,who'llbehereto-morrow,candoanything,youknow,callhimin.Ihopeshe'llbeabletoseemelater.ItcouldnotbeaNEARrelationwhodied,Ifancy;shehasnobrothersorsisters,Iunderstand."

"A cousin, I think; an old friend," said the consul hastily. He heard LordBeverdale say a fewwords to his companions, sawwith a tinge of remorse acloudsettleuponLordAlgernon'sfreshface,asheappealedinawhispertooldLadyMesthyn,wholeanedforwardfromthecarriage,andsaid,"IfthedearchildthoughtIcouldbeofanyservice,Ishouldonlybetoogladtostaywithher."

"I knew she would appreciate LadyMesthyn's sympathy," said the ingeniousconsulquickly,"butIreallythinkthequestionismoreabusinessone—and"—

"Ah,yes,"saidtheoldlady,shakingherhead,"it'sdreadful,ofcourse,butwemustallthinkofTHAT!"

Asthecarriagedroveaway,theconsulhurriedbackalittleviciouslytohisfaircountrywoman."There!"hesaid,"Ihavedoneit!IfIhavemanagedtoconveyeithertheideathatyouareapennilessorphan,orthatIhaveofficialinformationthatyouaresuspectedofadynamiteconspiracy,don'tblameme!Andnow,"hesaid,"asIhaveexcusedmyselfonthegroundthatImustdevotemyselftothisdreadfulbusinessofyours,perhapsyou'lltellmeWHATitreallyis."

"Notawordmore,"saidMissDesborough;"except,"sheadded,—checkingher

smilewithawearygesture,—"exceptthatIwanttoleavethisdreadfulplaceatonce!There!don'taskmeanymore!"

Therecouldbenodoubtofthegirl'ssincerity.Norwasittheextravagantcapriceof a petted idol. What had happened? He might have believed in a lovers'quarrel, but he knew that she and Lord Algernon could have had no privateinterview that evening. Hemust perforce accept her silence, yet he could nothelpsaying:—

"You seemed to like the place somuch last night. I say, you haven't seen thePrioryghost,haveyou?"

"ThePrioryghost,"shesaidquickly."What'sthat?"

"Theoldmonkwhopassesthroughthecloisterswiththesacredoil,thebell,andthe smell of incensewhenever anyone is to die here.By Jove! itwouldhavebeenagoodstorytotellinsteadofthiscock-and-bulloneaboutyourproperty.AndthereWASadeathhereto-day.You'dhaveaddedthesibyl'sgiftstoyourothercharms."

"Tellmeaboutthatoldman,"shesaid,lookingpasthimoutofthewindow."Iwasathiscottagethismorning.But,no!firstletusgoout.Youcantakemeforawalk,ifyoulike.YouseeIamallready,andI'mjuststiflinghere."

Theydescendedtotheterracetogether."Wherewouldyouliketogo?"heasked.

"Tothevillage.Imaywanttotelegraph,youknow."

Theyturnedintotheavenue,butMissDesboroughstopped.

"Istherenotashortercutacrossthefields,"sheasked,"overthere?"

"Thereis,"saidtheconsul.

Theybothturnedintothefootpathwhichledtothefarmandstile.Afterapauseshesaid,"Didyouevertalkwiththatpooroldman?"

"No."

"Thenyoudon'tknowifhereallywascrazy,astheythink."

"No.Buttheymayhavethoughtanoldman'sforgetfulnessofpresentthingsandhishabitofcommuningwiththepastwasinsanity.Forallthathewasaplucky,independentoldfellow,withagrimpurposethatwascertainlyrational."

"I suppose in his independence he would not have taken favors from thesepeople,oranybody?"

"Ishouldthinknot."

"Don'tyouthinkitwasjusthorrid—theirleavinghimaloneintherain,whenhemighthavebeenonlyinafit?"

"Thedoctorsayshediedsuddenlyofheartdisease,"said theconsul."Itmighthavehappenedatanymomentandwithoutwarning."

"Ah,thatwasthecoroner'sverdict,then,"saidMissDesboroughquickly.

"The coroner did not think it necessary to have any inquest after LordBeverdale's statement. Itwouldn't have been very joyous for the Priory party.AndIdaresayhethoughtitmightnotbeverycheerfulforYOU."

"Howverykind!"saidtheyounggirl,withaquicklaugh."Butdoyouknowthatit'sabouttheonlythinghuman,original,andstrikingthathashappenedinthisplace since I've been here! And so unexpected, considering how comfortablyeverythingisorderedherebeforehand."

"Yet you seemed to like that kind of thing very well, last evening," said theconsulmischievously.

"Thatwaslastnight,"retortedMissDesborough;"andyouknowtheline,'Colorsseen by candlelight do not look the same by day.' But I'm going to be veryconsistent to-day, for I intend togoover to thatpoorman'scottageagain,andseeifIcanbeofanyservice.Willyougowithme?"

"Certainly,"saidtheconsul,mystifiedbyhiscompanion'sextraordinaryconduct,yetapparentcoolnessofpurpose,andhopingforsomefurtherexplanation.Wassheonlyaninexperiencedflirtwhohadfoundherselfonthepointofaseriousentanglementshehadnotcontemplated?Yeteventhenheknewshewascleverenoughtoextricateherselfinsomeotherwaythanthisabruptandbrutaltearingthrough the meshes. Or was it possible that she really had any intelligence

affectingherproperty?HereflectedthatheknewverylittleoftheDesboroughs,butontheotherhandheknewthatBeverdaleknewthemmuchbetter,andwasaprudent man. He had no right to demand her confidence as a reward for hissecrecy; he must wait her pleasure. Perhaps she would still explain; womenseldomcouldresistthetriumphoftellingthesecretthatpuzzledothers.

WhentheyreachedthevillageshehaltedbeforethelowroofofDebs'scottage."Ihadbettergoinfirst,"shesaid;"youcancomeinlater,andinthemeantimeyoumightgoto thestationformeandfindout theexact timethat theexpresstrainleavesforthenorth."

"But,"saidtheastonishedconsul,"IthoughtyouweregoingtoLondon?"

"No," said Miss Desborough quietly, "I am going to join some friends atHarrogate."

"Butthattraingoesmuchearlierthanthetrainsouth,and—andI'mafraidLordBeverdalewillnothavereturnedsosoon."

"How sad!" saidMiss Desborough, with a faint smile, "but wemust bear upunderit,and—I'llwritehim.Iwillbehereuntilyoureturn."

She turned away and entered the cottage. The granddaughter she had alreadyseenandhersister,theservantatthePriory,werebothchattingcomfortably,butceasedassheentered,andboth rosewithawkwardrespect.Therewas little tosuggestthatthebodyoftheirgrandfather,alreadyinaroughoakshell,waslyingupontrestlesbesidethem.

"Youhavecarriedoutmyorders,Isee,"saidMissDesborough,layingdownherparasol.

"Ay,miss;butitwasmainhaardgettin'etdooansosoon,andetcooast"—

"Nevermindthecost.I'vegivenyoumoneyenough,Ithink,andifIhaven't,IguessIcangiveyoumore."

"Ay,miss!Abbutthepa'son'eadgi'unafuneralfornowt."

"ButIunderstoodyoutosay,"saidMissDesborough,withanimpatientflashofeye,"thatyourgrandfatherwishedtobeburiedwithhiskindredinthenorth?"

"Ay,miss,"saidthegirlapologetically,"annaw'eessavitth'munny.Abbute'dbean tickled 'ad 'ee knowed it! Dear! dear! 'ee niver thowt et 'ud be gi'en bystrangeran'not'esowntfammaly."

"For all that, you needn't tell anybody it was given by ME," said MissDesborough. "Andyou'llbe sure tobe ready to take the train thisafternoon—withoutdelay."TherewasacertainperemptorinessinhervoiceveryunlikeMissAmelyn's,yetapparentlymuchmoreeffectivewiththegranddaughter.

"Ay,miss.Then,iftha'llexcoosemea,I'llgostreightto'ooryoopsexten."

She bustled away. "Now," saidMissDesborough, turning to the other girl, "Ishall takethesametrain,andwillprobablyseeyouontheplatformatYorktogivemyfinaldirections.That'sall.Goandseeifthegentlemanwhocamewithmehasreturnedfromthestation."

Thegirlobeyed.Leftentirelyalone,MissDesboroughglancedaroundtheroom,and then went quietly up to the unlidded coffin. The repose of death hadsoftenedthehardlinesoftheoldman'smouthandbrowintoaresemblanceshenowmore than ever understood. She had stood thus only a few years before,looking at the same face in a gorgeously inlaid mahogany casket, smotheredamidst costly flowers, and surrounded by friends attired in all the luxurioustrappingsofwoe;yetitwasthesamefacethatwasnowrigidlyupturnedtothebarethatchandraftersofthatcrumblingcottage,herselfitsonlycompanion.Sheliftedherdelicateveilwithbothhands,and,stoopingdown,kissedthehard,coldforehead,withoutatremor.Thenshedroppedherveilagainoverherdryeyes,readjusteditinthelittle,cheap,black-framedmirrorthathungagainstthewall,and opened the door as the granddaughter returned. The gentleman was justcomingfromthestation.

"Remember to lookoutformeatYork,"saidMissDesborough,extendingherglovedhand."Good-bytill then."Theyounggirlrespectfully touchedtheendsofMissDesborough'sfingers,droppedacurtsy,andMissDesboroughrejoinedtheconsul.

"YouhavebarelytimetoreturntothePrioryandseetoyourluggage,"saidtheconsul,"ifyoumustgo.Butletmehopethatyouhavechangedyourmind."

"Ihavenotchangedmymind,"saidMissDesboroughquietly,"andmybaggageisalreadypacked."Afterapause,shesaidthoughtfully,"I'vebeenwondering"—

"What?"saidtheconsuleagerly.

"I'vebeenwondering ifpeoplebroughtup to speak inacertaindialect,wherecertainwordshave theirownsignificanceandcolor, andarepartof theirownlivesandexperience—if,evenwhentheyunderstandanotherdialect,theyreallyfeelanysympathywithit,orthepersonwhospeaksit?"

"Aproposof"—askedtheconsul.

"ThesepeopleI'vejustleft!Idon'tthinkIquitefeltwiththem,andIguesstheydidn'tfeelwithme."

"But," said the consul laughingly, "youknow thatweAmericans speakwith adecideddialectofourown,andattachthesameoccultmeaningtoit.Yet,uponmyword, I think thatLordBeverdale—or shall I sayLordAlgernon?—wouldnot only understand that American word 'guess' as you mean it, but wouldperfectlysympathizewithyou."

MissDesborough's eyes sparkled even through her veil as she glanced at hercompanionandsaid,"IGUESSNOT."

Asthe"tea"partyhadnotyetreturned,itfelltotheconsultoaccompanyMissDesborough and her maid to the station. But here he was startled to find acollectionofvillagersupon theplatform,gatheredround twoyoungwomen inmourning, and an ominous-looking box. He mingled for a moment with thecrowd,andthenreturnedtoMissDesborough'sside.

"Really,"hesaid,withaconcernthatwasscarcelyassumed,"Ioughtnottoletyougo.Theomensaremostdisastrous!Youcameheretoadeath;youaregoingawaywithafuneral!"

"Thenit'shightimeItookmyselfoff!"saidtheladylightly.

"Unless,liketheghostlymonk,youcamehereonamission,andhavefulfilledit."

"PerhapsIhave.Good-by!"

......

InspiteofthebrightandcharacteristicletterwhichMissDesboroughleftforherhost,—a letter which mingled her peculiar shrewd sense with her humorousextravagance of expression,—the consul spent a somewhat uneasy eveningunderthefireofquestionsthatassailedhiminreferencetothefairdeserter.Buthekept loyalfaithwithher,adheringevento the letterofher instructions,andonlyoncewasgoadedintomoreactivemendacity.Theconversationhadturnedupon "Debs," and the consul had remarked on the singularity of the name.Aguest from the north observed, however, that the name was undoubtedly acontraction."Possiblyitmighthavebeen'Debborough,'oreventhesamenameasourfairfriend."

"Butdidn'tMissDesboroughtellyoulastnightthatshehadbeenhuntingupherpeople,withafamilytree,orsomethinglikethat?"saidLordAlgernoneagerly."Ijustcaughtawordhereandthere,foryouwerebothlaughing."

The consul smiled blandly. "You may well say so, for it was all the mostdelightfulpieceofpureinventionandutterextravagance.Itwouldhaveamusedherstillmoreifshehadthoughtyouwerelisteningandtookitseriously!"

"Ofcourse;Isee!"saidtheyoungfellow,withalaughandaslightriseofcolor."I knew she was taking some kind of a rise out of YOU, and that remarkremindedmeofit."

Nevertheless,withinayear,LordAlgernonwashappilymarriedtothedaughterofaSouthAfricanmillionaire,whosebridalofferingsalonetouchedthesumofhalfamillion.Itwasalsosaidthat themotherwas"impossible"andthefather"unspeakable," the relations "inextinguishable;" but the wedding was an"occasion,"andinthesucceedingyearoffestivityitispresumedthatthenamesof"Debs"and"Desborough"werealikeforgotten.

But theyexistedstill ina littlehamletnear theedgeofableaknorthernmoor,wheretheyweresingularlyexaltedonasoaringshaftofpuremarbleabovethesubmerged and moss-grown tombstones of a simple country churchyard. Sogreatwas the contrast between themodern andpretentiousmonument and thegravesof thehumbler forefathers of thevillage, that even theAmericanswhochancedtovisititwereshockedatwhattheybelievedwastheostentatiousandvulgar pride of one of their own countrywomen. For on its pedestal wasinscribed:—

SacredtotheMemoryof

JOHNDEBSDESBOROUGH,Formerlyofthisparish,

WhodepartedthislifeOctober20th,1892,AtScroobyPriory,

Attheageofeighty-twoyears.Thismonumentwaserectedasalovingtestimony

byhisgranddaughter,SadieDesborough,ofNewYork,U.S.A.

"Andeveningbringsushome."

SALOMYJANE'SKISS

Onlyoneshothadbeenfired.Ithadgonewideof itsmark,—theringleaderoftheVigilantes,—andhadleftRedPete,whohadfiredit,coveredbytheirriflesandat theirmercy.Forhishandhadbeencrampedbyhardriding,andhiseyedistracted by their sudden onset, and so the inevitable end had come. Hesubmittedsullenlytohiscaptors;hiscompanionfugitiveandhorse-thiefgaveupthe protracted struggle with a feeling not unlike relief. Even the hot andrevengeful victorswere content. They had taken theirmen alive.At any timeduringthelongchasetheycouldhavebroughtthemdownbyarifleshot,butitwouldhavebeenunsportsmanlike,andhaveendedinafreefight,insteadofanexample.And,forthematterofthat,theirdoomwasalreadysealed.Theirend,by a rope and a tree, although not sanctified by law, would have at least thedeliberation of justice. It was the tribute paid by the Vigilantes to that orderwhich they had themselves disregarded in the pursuit and capture. Yet thisstrange logic of the frontier sufficed them, and gave a certain dignity to theclimax.

"Efyou'vegotanythingtosaytoyourfolks,sayitNOW,andsayitquick,"saidtheringleader.

RedPeteglancedaroundhim.Hehadbeenruntoearthathisowncabinintheclearing,whenceafewrelationsandfriends,mostlywomenandchildren,non-combatants, had outflowed, gazing vacantly at the twenty Vigilantes whosurroundedthem.Allwereaccustomedtoscenesofviolence,blood-feud,chase,andhardship; itwasonly the suddennessof theonset and its quick result thathad surprised them. They looked on with dazed curiosity and somedisappointment; there had been no fight to speak of—no spectacle! A boy,nephew of Red Pete, got upon the rain-barrel to view the proceedings morecomfortably; a tall, handsome, lazyKentucky girl, a visiting neighbor, leanedagainst the doorpost, chewing gum. Only a yellow hound was activelyperplexed.Hecouldnotmakeoutifahuntwerejustoverorbeginning,andraneagerlybackwards and forwards, leaping alternatelyupon the captives and thecaptors.

The ringleader repeated his challenge. Red Pete gave a reckless laugh andlookedathiswife.

At whichMrs. Red Pete came forward. It seemed that she hadmuch to say,incoherently, furiously, vindictively, to the ringleader.His soulwould roast inhellforthatday'swork!Hecalledhimselfaman,skunkin'intheopenandafraidtoshowhimselfexceptwithacrowdofother"Kiyi's"aroundahouseofwomenandchildren.Heaping insultupon insult, inveighingagainsthis lowblood,hisancestors, his dubious origin, she at last flung out a wild taunt of his invalidwife,theinsultofawomantoawoman,untilhiswhitefacegrewrigid,andonlythatWestern-American fetich of the sanctity of sex kept his twitching fingersfrom the lock of his rifle. Even her husband noticed it, and with a half-authoritative "Let up on that, old gal," and a pat of his freed left hand on herback, took his last parting. The ringleader, still white under the lash of thewoman's tongue, turned abruptly to the second captive. "And if YOU'VE gotanybodytosay'good-by'to,now'syourchance."

Themanlookedup.Nobodystirredorspoke.Hewasastranger there,beingachanceconfederatepickedupbyRedPete, andknown tonoone.Still young,but an outlaw fromhis abandonedboyhood, ofwhich father andmotherwereonly a forgotten dream, he loved horses and stole them, fully accepting thefrontierpenaltyoflifefortheinterferencewiththatanimalonwhichaman'slifesooftendepended.Butheunderstoodthegoodpointsofahorse,aswasshownby the ones he bestrode—until a few days before the property of JudgeBoompointer.Thiswashissoledistinction.

Theunexpectedquestionstirredhimforamomentoutoftheattitudeofrecklessindifference, for attitude itwas, and a part of his profession.But itmay havetouchedhimthatatthatmomenthewaslessthanhiscompanionandhisviragowife.However,heonlyshookhishead.Ashedidsohiseyecasuallyfellonthehandsome girl by the doorpost, whowas looking at him. The ringleader, too,may have been touched by his complete loneliness, for HE hesitated. At thesamemomenthesawthatthegirlwaslookingathisfriendlesscaptive.

Agrotesqueideastruckhim.

"SalomyJane,yemightdoworsethancomeyereandsay 'good-by' toadyingman,andhimastranger,"hesaid.

Thereseemedtobeasubtlestrokeofpoetryandironyinthisthatequallystrucktheapatheticcrowd.ItwaswellknownthatSalomyJaneClaythoughtnosmallpotatoesofherself,andalwaysheldoffthelocalswainwithalazynymph-likescorn. Nevertheless, she slowly disengaged herself from the doorpost, and, toeverybody's astonishment, lounged with languid grace and outstretched handtowards the prisoner. The color came into the gray reckless mask which thedoomedmanworeasherrighthandgraspedhisleft,justloosedbyhiscaptors.Thenshepaused;hershy,fawn-likeeyesgrewbold,andfixedthemselvesuponhim. She took the chewing-gum from hermouth, wiped her red lipswith thebackofherhand,by a sudden lithe springplacedher footonhis stirrup, and,boundingtothesaddle, threwherarmsabouthisneckandpressedakissuponhislips.

Theyremained thus forahushedmoment—themanon the thresholdofdeath,theyoungwomaninthefullnessofyouthandbeauty—linkedtogether.Thenthecrowdlaughed; in theaudaciouseffronteryof thegirl'sact theultimate fateofthe twomenwas forgotten.Sheslipped languidly to theground;SHEwas thefocus of all eyes,— she only! The ringleader saw it and his opportunity. Heshouted: "Time's up—Forward!" urged his horse beside his captives, and thenext moment the whole cavalcade was sweeping over the clearing into thedarkeningwoods.

Their destination was Sawyer's Crossing, the headquarters of the committee,where thecouncilwasstill sitting,andwherebothculpritswere toexpiate theoffenseofwhichthatcouncilhadalreadyfoundthemguilty.Theyrodeingreatand breathless haste,—a haste in which, strangely enough, even the captives

seemed to join.That hastepossiblyprevented them fromnoticing the singularchangewhichhadtakenplaceinthesecondcaptivesincetheepisodeofthekiss.Hishighcolorremained,asifithadburnedthroughhismaskofindifference;hiseyeswere quick, alert, and keen, hismouth half open as if the girl's kiss stilllingeredthere.Andthathastehadmadethemcareless,forthehorseofthemanwholedhimslippedinagopher-hole,rolledover,unseatedhisrider,andevendragged the bound and helpless second captive from Judge Boompointer'sfavoritemare.Inaninstanttheywereallontheirfeetagain,butinthatsuprememoment thesecondcaptivefelt thecordswhichboundhisarmshadslippedtohiswrists.Bykeepinghis elbows tohis sides, andobliging theothers to helphimmount,itescapedtheirnotice.Byridingclosetohiscaptors,andkeepinginthe crush of the throng, he further concealed the accident, slowlyworking hishandsdownwardsoutofhisbonds.

Their way lay through a sylvanwilderness,mid-leg deep in ferns, whose tallfronds brushed their horses' sides in their furious gallop and concealed theflappingofthecaptive'sloosenedcords.Thepeacefulvista,moresuggestiveoftheofferingsofnymphandshepherdthanofhumansacrifice,wasinastrangecontrasttothiswhirlwindrushofstern,armedmen.Thewesteringsunpiercedthesubduedlightandthetremorofleaveswithyellowlances;birdsstartedintosongonblueanddove-likewings,andoneithersideofthetrailofthisvengefulstorm could be heard the murmur of hidden and tranquil waters. In a fewmomentstheywouldbeontheopenridge,whenceslopedthecommonturnpiketo"Sawyer's,"amileaway.Itwasthecustomofreturningcavalcadestotakethishill at headlong speed,with shouts and cries that heralded their coming.Theywithheld the latter that day, as inconsistent with their dignity; but, emergingfromthewood,sweptsilentlylikeanavalanchedowntheslope.Theywerewellunder way, looking only to their horses, when the second captive slipped hisrightarmfromthebondsandsucceededingraspingthereinsthatlaytrailingonthe horse's neck. A sudden vaquero jerk, which the well-trained animalunderstood, threwhimonhishauncheswithhis forelegs firmlyplantedon theslope.Therestofthecavalcadeswepton;themanwhowasleadingthecaptive'shorse by the riata, thinking only of another accident, dropped the line to savehimselffrombeingdraggedbackwardsfromhishorse.Thecaptivewheeled,andthenextmomentwasgallopingfuriouslyuptheslope.

It was the work of a moment; a trained horse and an experienced hand. Thecavalcade had covered nearly fifty yards before they could pull up; the freedcaptivehadcoveredhalfthatdistanceuphill.Theroadwassonarrowthatonly

twoshotscouldbefired,andthesebrokedust twoyardsaheadof thefugitive.They had not dared to fire low; the horsewas themore valuable animal. Thefugitiveknewthis inhisextremityalso,andwouldhavegladlytakenashot inhisown leg tospare thatofhishorse.Fivemenweredetached to recaptureorkillhim.Thelatterseemedinevitable.Buthehadcalculatedhischances;beforetheycouldreloadhehadreachedthewoodsagain;windinginandoutbetweenthepillaredtreetrunks,heofferednomark.Theyknewhishorsewassuperiortotheirown;attheendoftwohourstheyreturned,forhehaddisappearedwithouttrackortrail.Theendwasbrieflytoldinthe"SierraRecord:"—

"Red Pete, the notorious horse-thief, who had so long eluded justice, wascaptured and hung by the Sawyer's Crossing Vigilantes last week; hisconfederate, unfortunately, escaped on a valuable horse belonging to JudgeBoompointer.The judgehad refusedone thousanddollars for thehorseonlyaweekbefore.Asthethief,whoisstillatlarge,wouldfinditdifficulttodisposeof so valuable an animal without detection, the chances are against either ofthemturningupagain."

......

SalomyJanewatched thecavalcadeuntil ithaddisappeared.Thenshebecameaware thatherbriefpopularityhadpassed.Mrs.RedPete, instormyhysterics,hadincludedherinasweepingdenunciationofthewholeuniverse,possiblyforsimulating an emotion in which she herself was deficient. The other womenhated her for her momentary exaltation above them; only the children stilladmiredherasonewhohadundoubtedly"canoodled"withaman"a-goingtobehung"—adaringflightbeyondtheirwildestambition.SalomyJaneacceptedthechangewithcharmingunconcern.Sheputonheryellownankeensunbonnet,—ahideous affair that would have ruined any other woman, but which onlyenhanced the piquancyof her freshbrunette skin,—tied the strings, letting theblue-blackbraidsescapebelowitsfrilledcurtainbehind,jumpedonhermustangwithacasualdisplayofagileanklesinshapelywhitestockings,whistledtothehound, andwaving her handwith a "So long, sonny!" to the lately bereft butadmiringnephew,flappedandflutteredawayinhershortbrownhollandgown.

Herfather'shousewasfourmilesdistant.Contrastedwiththecabinshehadjustquitted, it was a superior dwelling, with a long "lean-to" at the rear, whichbrought theeavesalmost to thegroundandmadeit looklikea lowtriangle. Ithadalongbarnandcattlesheds,forMadisonClaywasa"great"stock-raiserand

theownerofa"quartersection."Ithadasitting-roomandaparlororgan,whosetransportation thither had been a marvel of "packing." These things weresupposed to giveSalomy Jane an undue importance, but the girl's reserve andinaccessibility to local advances were rather the result of a cool, lazytemperament and the preoccupation of a large, protecting admiration for herfather, for some years a widower. For Mr. Madison Clay's life had beenthreatened in one or two feuds,—it was said, not without cause,—and it ispossiblethatthepatheticspectacleofherfatherdoinghisvisitingwithashotgunmay have touched her closely and somewhat prejudiced her against theneighboringmasculinity. The thought that cattle, horses, and "quarter section"wouldonedaybehersdidnotdisturbhercalm.AsforMr.Clay,heacceptedheras housewifely, though somewhat "interfering," and, being one of "his ownwomankind,"thereforenotwithoutsomedegreeofmerit.

"Wot'sthisyerI'mhearin'ofyourdoin'soveratRedPete's?Honeyfoglin'withahorse-thief,eh?"saidMr.Claytwodayslateratbreakfast.

"I reckon you heard about the straight thing, then," said Salomy Janeunconcernedly,withoutlookinground.

"WhatdoyoukalkilateRubewill say to it?What areyougoin' to tellHIM?"saidMr.Claysarcastically.

"Rube,"orReubenWaters,wasaswainsupposedtobefavoredparticularlybyMr.Clay.SalomyJanelookedup.

"I'lltellhimthatwhenHE'Sonhiswaytobehung,I'llkisshim,—nottillthen,"saidtheyoungladybrightly.

This delightfulwitticism suited the paternal humor, andMr.Clay smiled; but,nevertheless,hefrownedamomentafterwards.

"Butthisyerhoss-thiefgotawayarterall,andthat'sahossofadifferentcolor,"hesaidgrimly.

SalomyJaneputdownherknifeandfork.Thiswascertainlyanewanddifferentphaseofthesituation.Shehadneverthoughtofitbefore,and,strangelyenough,for the first timeshebecame interested in theman."Gotaway?"she repeated."Didtheylethimoff?"

"Not much," said her father briefly. "Slipped his cords, and going down thegradepulledupshort,justlikeavaqueroaginalassoedbull,almostdraggin'themanleadin'himoffhishoss,andthenskyutedupthegrade.Forthatmatter,onthathosso'JudgeBoompointer'shemouthavedraggedthewholeposseof'emdownontheirkneesefheliked!Sarved'emright,too.Insteadofstringin'himupaforethedoor,orshootin'himonsight,theymustallowtotakehimdownaforethe hull committee 'for an example.' 'Example' be blowed! Ther' 's exampleenoughwhensomestrangercomesunbeknownstslaponteramanhanged toatree and plugged full of holes. THAT'S an example, and HE knows what itmeans.Wotmore do yewant? But then thoseVigilantes is allus clingin' andhangin'ontersomemerescrapo'thelawthey'repretendin'todespise.Itmakesme sick!Why,when JakeMyers shot your oleAuntViney's secondhusband,andIlaidinwaitforJakeafterwardsintheButternutHollow,didItiehimtohishossand fetchhimdown toyourAuntViney'scabin 'foranexample'before Iplugged him?No!" in deep disgust. "No!Why, I justmeandered through thewood,careless-like,tillhecomesout,andIjustrodeuptohim,andIsaid"—

ButSalomyJanehadheardherfather'sstorybefore.Evenone'sdearestrelativesareapttobecometiresomeinnarration."Iknow,dad,"sheinterrupted;"butthisyerman,—thishoss-thief,—didHEgetcleanawaywithoutgettin'hurtatall?"

"Hedid,andunlesshe'sfoolenoughtosellthehosshekinkeepaway,too.Soye see, ye can't ladle out purp stuff about a 'dyin' stranger' toRube.Hewon'tswallerit."

"All the same, dad," returned the girl cheerfully, "I reckon to say it, and sayMORE;I'lltellhimthatefHEmanagestogetawaytoo,I'llmarryhim—there!Butyedon'tketchRubetakin'anysuchrisksingettin'ketched,oringettin'awayarter!"

MadisonClaysmiledgrimly,pushedbackhischair,rose,droppedaperfunctorykissonhisdaughter'shair,and,takinghisshotgunfromthecorner,departedonapeacefulSamaritanmissiontoacowwhohaddroppedacalfinthefarpasture.InclinedashewastoReuben'swooingfromhiseligibilityastoproperty,hewasconscious that he was sadly deficient in certain qualities inherent in the Clayfamily.Itcertainlywouldbeakindofmesalliance.

Lefttoherself,SalomyJanestaredalongwhileatthecoffee-pot,andthencalledthe two squaws who assisted her in her household duties, to clear away the

things while she went up to her own room to make her bed. Here she wasconfrontedwithapossibleprospectofthatproverbialbedshemightbemakinginherwillfulness,andonwhichshemustlie,inthephotographofasomewhatseriousyoungmanofrefinedfeatures—ReubenWaters—stuckinherwindow-frame.SalomyJanesmiledoverherlastwitticismregardinghimandenjoyed,it,likeyourtruehumorist,andthen,catchingsightofherownhandsomefaceinthelittlemirror,smiledagain.Butwasn'titfunnyaboutthathorse-thiefgettingoffafterall?GoodLordy!FancyReubenhearinghewasaliveandgoingroundwiththat kiss of hers set on his lips! She laughed again, a littlemore abstractedly.Andhehadreturneditlikeaman,holdinghertightandalmostbreathless,andhe going to be hung the next minute! Salomy Jane had been kissed at othertimes,byforce,chance,orstratagem.Inacertainingenuousforfeitgameofthelocality known as "I'm a-pinin'," many had "pined" for a "sweet kiss" fromSalomyJane,whichshehadyieldedinasenseofhonorandfairplay.Shehadneverbeenkissedlikethisbefore—shewouldneveragain;andyetthemanwasalive!Andbehold,shecouldseeinthemirrorthatshewasblushing!

She should hardly know him again. A young man with very bright eyes, aflushedandsunburntcheek,akindoffixedlookintheface,andnobeard;no,nonethatshecouldfeel.Yethewasnotatall likeReuben,notabit.ShetookReuben'spicturefromthewindow,andlaiditonherworkbox.Andtothinkshedidnotevenknowthisyoungman'sname!Thatwasqueer.Tobekissedbyamanwhomshemightneverknow!Ofcourseheknewhers.Shewonderedifheremembereditandher.Butofcoursehewassogladtogetoffwithhislifethathenever thoughtofanythingelse.Yetshedidnotgivemore thanfouror fiveminutes to these speculations, and, like a sensible girl, thought of somethingelse.Onceagain,however, inopening thecloset, she found thebrownhollandgownshehadwornonthedaybefore;thoughtitveryunbecoming,andregrettedthatshehadnotwornherbestgownonhervisittoRedPete'scottage.Onsuchanoccasionshereallymighthavebeenmoreimpressive.

Whenher father camehome that night she askedhim the news.No, they hadNOTcapturedthesecondhorse-thief,whowasstillatlarge.JudgeBoompointertalkedofinvokingtheaidofthedespisedlaw.Itremained,then,toseewhetherthehorse-thiefwasfoolenoughtotrytogetridoftheanimal.RedPete'sbodyhad been delivered to his widow. Perhaps it would only be neighborly forSalomy Jane to ride over to the funeral. But Salomy Jane did not take to thesuggestionkindly,noryetdidsheexplaintoherfatherthat,astheothermanwasstill living, she did not care to undergo a second disciplining at the widow's

hands.Nevertheless,shecontrastedhersituationwiththatof thewidowwithanewandsingularsatisfaction.ItmighthavebeenRedPetewhohadescaped.Buthe had not the grit of the nameless one. She had already settled his heroicquality.

"Yeain'tharkenin'tome,Salomy."

SalomyJanestarted.

"HereI'maskin'yeifye'veseethathoundPhilLarrabeesneakingbyyertoday?"

Salomy Jane had not. But she became interested and self-reproachful, for sheknewthatPhilLarrabeewasoneofherfather'senemies."Hewouldn'tdaretogobyhereunlessheknewyouwereout,"shesaidquickly.

"That'swhatgetsme,"hesaid, scratchinghisgrizzledhead."I'vebeenkindo'thinkin'o'himallday,andoneofthemChinamensaidhesawhimatSawyer'sCrossing.Hewasakindoffriendo'Pete'swife.That'swhyIthoughtyermightfind out ef he'd been there." Salomy Jane grew more self-reproachful at herfather's self-interest in her "neighborliness." "But that ain't all," continuedMr.Clay. "Tharwas tracksover the farpasture thatwarn'tmine. I followed them,andtheywentroundandroundthehousetwoorthreetimes,ezeftheymouthevbinprowlin', and then I lost 'em in thewoodsagain. It's just like that sneakin'houndLarrabeetohevbinlyin'inwaitformeandafraidtomeetamanfairandsquareintheopen."

"Youjust lie low,dad, foradayor twomore,and letmedoa littleprowlin',"saidthegirl,withsympatheticindignationinherdarkeyes."Efit's thatskunk,I'llspothimsoonenoughandletyouknowwharhe'shiding."

"You'lljuststaywhereyeare,Salomy,"saidherfatherdecisively."Thisain'tnowoman'swork—thoughIain'tsayin'youhaven'tgotmoreheadforitthansomemenIknow."

Nevertheless,thatnight,afterherfatherhadgonetobed,SalomyJanesatbytheopen window of the sitting-room in an apparent attitude of languidcontemplation,butalert and intentofeyeandear. Itwasa finemoonlitnight.Twopinesnear thedoor, solitarypicketsof the serried ranksofdistant forest,castlongshadowslikepathstothecottage,andsighedtheirspicedbreathinthewindows. For there was no frivolity of vine or flower round Salomy Jane's

bower.Theclearingwastoorecent,thelifetoopracticalforvanitieslikethese.But the moon added a vague elusiveness to everything, softened the rigidoutlines of the sheds, gave shadows to the lidlesswindows, and touchedwithmerciful indirectnessthehideousdebrisofrefusegravelandthegauntscarsofburnt vegetation before the door. Even Salomy Jane was affected by it, andexhaledsomethingbetweenasighandayawnwiththebreathofthepines.Thenshesuddenlysatupright.

Herquickearhadcaughtafaint"click,click,"inthedirectionofthewood;herquickerinstinctandrustictrainingenabledhertodeterminethatitwastheringofahorse'sshoeonflintyground;herknowledgeofthelocalitytoldheritcamefromthespotwherethetrailpassedoveranoutcropofflintscarcelyaquarterofamilefromwhereshesat,andwithintheclearing.Itwasnoerrant"stock,"forthefootwasshodwithiron;itwasamountedtrespasserbynight,andbodednogoodtoamanlikeClay.

She rose, threw her shawl over her head, more for disguise than shelter, andpassedout of the door.A sudden impulsemadeher seize her father's shotgunfromthecornerwhere it stood,—not thatshe fearedanydanger toherself,butthatitwasanexcuse.Shemadedirectlyforthewood,keepingintheshadowofthepinesaslongasshecould.Atthefringeshehalted;whoeverwastheremustpassherbeforereachingthehouse.

Thenthereseemedtobeasuspenseofallnature.Everythingwasdeadlystill—eventhemoonbeamsappearednolongertremulous;soontherewasarustleasofsomestealthyanimalamongtheferns,andthenadismountedmansteppedintothemoonlight.Itwasthehorse-thief—themanshehadkissed!

Forawildmomentastrangefancyseizedherusuallysaneintellectandstirredher temperate blood. The news they had told herwasNOT true; he had beenhung,andthiswashisghost!Helookedaswhiteandspirit-likeinthemoonlight,dressedinthesameclothes,aswhenshesawhimlast.Hehadevidentlyseenherapproaching, and moved quickly to meet her. But in his haste he stumbledslightly; she reflected suddenly that ghosts did not stumble, and a feeling ofreliefcameoverher.Anditwasnoassassinofherfatherthathadbeenprowlingaround—only this unhappy fugitive.Amomentary color came into her cheek;hercoolnessandhardihoodreturned;itwaswithatingeofsaucinessinhervoicethatshesaid:—

"Ireckonedyouwereaghost."

"Imouthavebeen,"hesaid,lookingatherfixedly;"butIreckonI'dhavecomebackhereallthesame."

"It'salittleriskiercomin'backalive,"shesaid,withalevitythatdiedonherlips,forasingularnervousness,halffearandhalfexpectation,wasbeginningtotaketheplaceofher reliefofamomentago. "Then itwasYOUwhowasprowlin'roundandmakin'tracksinthefarpasture?"

"Yes;IcamestraightherewhenIgotaway."

Shefelthiseyeswereburningher,butdidnotdaretoraiseherown."Why,"shebegan,hesitated,andendedvaguely."HOWdidyougethere?"

"Youhelpedme!"

"I?"

"Yes.Thatkissyougavemeputlifeintome—gavemestrengthtogetaway.IsworetomyselfI'dcomebackandthankyou,aliveordead."

Everywordhesaidshecouldhaveanticipated,soplainthesituationseemedtohernow.Andeverywordhesaidsheknewwasthetruth.Yethercoolcommonsensestruggledagainstit.

"What's the use of your escaping, ef you're comin' back here to be ketchedagain?"shesaidpertly.

He drew a little nearer to her, but seemed to her the more awkward as sheresumedherself-possession.Hisvoice,too,wasbroken,asifbyexhaustion,ashesaid,catchinghisbreathatintervals:—

"I'lltellyou.Youdidmoreformethanyouthink.Youmadeanothermano'me.Ineverhadaman,woman,orchilddotomewhatyoudid.Ineverhadafriend—onlyapallikeRedPete,whopickedmeup'onshares.'Iwanttoquitthisyer—what I'm doin'. I want to begin by doin' the square thing to you"— Hestopped, breathed hard, and then said brokenly, "My hoss is over thar, stakedout. I want to give him to you. Judge Boompointer will give you a thousanddollarsforhim.Iain'tlyin';it'sGod'struth!Isawitonthehandbillaginatree.

Takehim,andI'llgetawayafoot.Takehim.It'stheonlythingIcandoforyou,and I know it don't half pay forwhat you did. Take it; your father can get arewardforyou,ifyoucan't."

Suchweretheethicsofthisstrangelocalitythatneitherthemanwhomadetheoffer nor the girl to whom it was made was struck by anything that seemedillogicalor indelicate,oratall inconsistentwithjusticeor thehorse-thief'srealconversion. Salomy Jane nevertheless dissented, from another and weakerreason.

"Idon'twantyourhoss, thoughIreckondadmight;butyou'rejuststarvin'.I'llgetsuthin'."Sheturnedtowardsthehouse.

"Sayyou'lltakethehossfirst,"hesaid,graspingherhand.Atthetouchshefeltherselfcoloringandstruggled,expectingperhapsanotherkiss.Buthedroppedherhand.She turnedagainwithasaucygesture,said,"Hol'on;I'llcomerightback," and slipped away, themere shadow of a coy and flying nymph in themoonlight,untilshereachedthehouse.

Hereshenotonlyprocuredfoodandwhiskey,butaddedalongdust-coatandhatofher father's toherburden.Theywouldserveasadisguise forhimandhidethat heroic figure, which she thought everybody must now know as she did.Thensherejoinedhimbreathlessly.Butheputthefoodandwhiskeyaside.

"Listen,"hesaid;"I'veturnedthehossintoyourcorral.You'llfindhimthereinthe morning, and no one will know but that he got lost and joined the otherhosses."

Then she burst out. "But you—YOU—what will become of you? You'll beketched!"

"I'llmanagetogetaway,"hesaidinalowvoice,"ef—ef"—

"Efwhat?" shesaid tremblingly. "Efyou'llput theheart inmeagain,—asyoudid!"hegasped.

Shetriedtolaugh—tomoveaway.Shecoulddoneither.Suddenlyhecaughtherin his arms,with a long kiss, which she returned again and again. Then theystoodembracedastheyhadembracedtwodaysbefore,butnolongerthesame.For the cool, lazy Salomy Jane had been transformed into anotherwoman—a

passionate,clingingsavage.Perhapssomethingofherfather'sbloodhadsurgedwithinheratthatsuprememoment.Themanstooderectanddetermined.

"Wot'syourname?"shewhisperedquickly. Itwasawoman'squickestwayofdefiningherfeelings.

"Dart."

"Yerfirstname?"

"Jack."

"Let me go now, Jack. Lie low in the woods till to-morrow sunup. I'll comeagain."

Hereleasedher.Yetshelingeredamoment."Putonthosethings,"shesaid,withasuddenhappyflashofeyesandteeth,"andlieclosetillIcome."Andthenshespedawayhome.

Butmidwayupthedistanceshefeltherfeetgoingslower,andsomethingatherheartstringsseemedtobepullingherback.Shestopped,turned,andglancedtowherehehadbeen standing.Hadshe seenhim then, shemighthave returned.Buthehaddisappeared.Shegaveher first sigh,and then ranquicklyagain. Itmustbenearlyteno'clock!Itwasnotverylongtomorning!

Shewaswithinafewstepsofherowndoor,whenthesleepingwoodsandsilentairappearedtosuddenlyawakewithasharp"crack!"

She stopped, paralyzed.Another "crack!' followed, that echoedover to the farcorral.Sherecalledherselfinstantlyanddashedoffwildlytothewoodsagain.

Assheranshethoughtofonethingonly.Hehadbeen"dogged"byoneofhisold pursuers and attacked. But there were two shots, and he was unarmed.Suddenlysherememberedthatshehadleftherfather'sgunstandingagainstthetreewhere theywere talking.ThankGod!shemayagainhavesavedhim.Sheranto the tree; thegunwasgone.Sheranhitherandthither,dreadingateverystep to fall upon his lifeless body. A new thought struck her; she ran to thecorral. The horse was not there! He must have been able to regain it, andescaped,AFTERtheshotshadbeenfired.Shedrewalongbreathofrelief,butitwascaughtupinanapprehensionofalarm.Herfather,awakenedfromhissleep

bytheshots,washurriedlyapproachingher.

"What'supnow,SalomyJane?"hedemandedexcitedly.

"Nothin',"saidthegirlwithaneffort."Nothin',atleast,thatIcanfind."Shewasusually truthful because fearless, and a lie stuck in her throat; but shewas nolongerfearless,thinkingofHIM."Iwasn'tabed;soIranoutassoonasIheardtheshotsfired,"sheansweredinreturntohiscuriousgaze.

"And you've hid my gun somewhere where it can't be found," he saidreproachfully."EfitwasthatsneakLarrabee,andhefiredthemshotstoluremeout, hemight have pottedme,without a show, a dozen times in the last fiveminutes."

Shehadnot thoughtsinceofherfather'senemy!Itmight indeedhavebeenhewhohadattackedJack.Butshemadeaquickpointofthesuggestion."Runin,dad,runinandfindthegun;you'vegotnoshowoutherewithoutit."Sheseizedhimby the shoulders frombehind, shieldinghim from thewoods, andhurriedhim,halfexpostulating,halfstruggling,tothehouse.

Buttherenogunwastobefound.Itwasstrange;itmusthavebeenmislaidinsomecorner!Washesurehehadnotleftitinthebarn?Butnomatternow.Thedangerwasover;theLarrabeetrickhadfailed;hemustgotobednow,andinthemorningtheywouldmakeasearchtogether.Atthesametimeshehadinwardlyresolvedtorisebeforehimandmakeanothersearchofthewood,andperhaps—fearfuljoyassherecalledherpromise!—findJackaliveandwell,awaitingher!

SalomyJane slept little thatnight,nordidher father.But towardsmorninghefellintoatiredman'sslumberuntilthesunwaswellupthehorizon.Fardifferentwasitwithhisdaughter:shelaywithherfacetothewindow,herheadhalfliftedto catch every sound, from the creakingof the sun-warped shingles aboveherheadtothefar-offmoanoftherisingwindinthepinetrees.Sometimesshefellinto a breathless, half-ecstatic trance, living over every moment of the stoleninterview; feeling the fugitive's arm still around her, his kisses on her lips;hearing his whispered voice in her ears—the birth of her new life! This wasfollowed again by a period of agonizing dread—that he might even then belying, his life ebbing away, in thewoods,with her name on his lips, and sherestinghereinactive,untilshehalfstartedfromherbedtogotohissuccor.Andthiswentonuntilapaleopalglowcameintothesky,followedbyastillpaler

pinkonthesummitof thewhiteSierras,whensheroseandhurriedlybegantodress. Still so sanguinewas her hope ofmeeting him, that she lingered yet amoment to select the brownholland skirt andyellow sunbonnet she hadwornwhen she first saw him. And she had only seen him twice! Only TWICE! Itwouldbecruel,toocruel,nottoseehimagain!

She crept softly down the stairs, listening to the long-drawn breathing of herfather inhis bedroom, and then, by the light of aguttering candle, scrawled anotetohim,begginghimnottotrusthimselfoutofthehouseuntilshereturnedfromhersearch,andleavingthenoteopenonthetable,swiftlyranoutintothegrowingday.

ThreehoursafterwardsMr.MadisonClayawoketothesoundofloudknocking.At first this forced itself upon his consciousness as his daughter's regularmorning summons, and was responded to by a grunt of recognition and anestlingcloserintheblankets.Thenheawokewithastartandamutteredoath,rememberingtheeventsoflastnight,andhisintentiontogetupearly,androlledoutofbed.Becomingawarebythistimethattheknockingwasattheouterdoor,andhearingtheshoutofafamiliarvoice,hehastilypulledonhisboots,hisjeantrousers, and fastening a single suspender over his shoulder as he clattereddownstairs,stoodinthelowerroom.Thedoorwasopen,andwaitinguponthethreshold was his kinsman, an old ally in many a blood-feud—BreckenridgeClay!

"YouAREacoolone,Mad!"saidthelatterinhalf-admiringindignation.

"What'sup?"saidthebewilderedMadison.

"YOUought tobe,andscootin'outo' this," saidBreckenridgegrimly."It'sallverywellto'knownothin';'butherePhilLarrabee'sfriendshevjustpickedhimup, drilled through with slugs and deader nor a crow, and now they're lettin'looseLarrabee's twohalf-brothersonyou.Andyoumustgolikeadernedfooland leave these yer things behind you in the bresh," hewent on querulously,liftingMadisonClay'sdust-coat,hat, andshotgun fromhishorse,which stoodsaddledatthedoor."LuckilyIpickedthemupinthewoodscomin'here.Yeain'tgotmore than time to get over the state line and among your folks thar aforethey'llbedownonyou.Hustle,oldman!Whatareyougawkin'andstarin'at?"

Madison Clay had stared amazed and bewildered—horror-stricken. The

incidents of the past night for the first time flashed upon him clearly—hopelessly!Theshot;hisfindingSalomyJanealoneinthewoods;herconfusionandanxietytoridherselfofhim;thedisappearanceoftheshotgun;andnowthisnewdiscoveryof the takingofhishatandcoat foradisguise!SHEhadkilledPhilLarrabee in thatdisguise, afterprovokinghis firstharmless shot!She,hisownchild,SalomyJane,haddisgracedherselfbyaman'scrime;haddisgracedhimbyusurpinghisright,andtakingameanadvantage,bydeceit,ofafoe!

"Gimmethatgun,"hesaidhoarsely.

Breckenridge handed him the gun in wonder and slowly gathering suspicion.Madison examinednipple andmuzzle; one barrel had beendischarged. Itwastrue!Thegundroppedfromhishand.

"Lookhere,oldman,"saidBreckenridge,withadarkeningface,"there'sbinnofoulplayhere.Thar'sbinnohiringofmen,nodeputytodothisjob.YOUdiditfairandsquare—yourself?"

"Yes,byGod!"burstoutMadisonClayinahoarsevoice."WhosaysIdidn't?"

Reassured,yetbelievingthatMadisonClayhadnervedhimselffortheactbyanover-draught of whiskey, which had affected his memory, Breckenridge saidcurtly,"Thenwakeupand'lite'out,efyewantmetostandbyyou."

"Gotothecorralandpickmeoutahoss,"saidMadisonslowly,yetnotwithoutacertaindignityofmanner."I'vesuthin' tosaytoSalomyJaneaforeIgo."Hewas holding her scribbled note, which he had just discovered, in his shakinghand.

Struckbyhiskinsman'smanner,andknowingthedependentrelationsoffatheranddaughter,Breckenridgenoddedandhurriedaway.Lefttohimself,MadisonClay ranhis fingers throughhishair, and straightenedout thepaperonwhichSalomyJanehadscrawledhernote,turneditover,andwroteontheback:—

Youmighthavetoldmeyoudidit,andnot leaveyourolefathertofinditouthow you disgraced yourself and him, too, by a low-down, underhanded,woman's trick! I've said I done it, and took the blame myself, and all thesneakiness of it that folks suspect. If I get away alive—and I don't caremuchwhich—you needn't foller. The house and stock are yours; but you ain't anylongerthedaughterofyourdisgracedfather,

MADISONCLAY.

Hehadscarcelyfinishedthenotewhen,withaclatterofhoofsandaledhorse,Breckenridge reappeared at the door elate and triumphant. "You're in niggerluck,Mad! I found that stole hoss of Judge Boompointer's had got away andstrayed amongyour stock in the corral.Take him andyou're safe; he can't beoutrunthissideofthestateline."

"Iain'tnohoss-thief,"saidMadisongrimly.

"Nobody sez ye are, but you'd be wuss—a fool—ef you didn't take him. I'mtestimony that you found him among your hosses; I'll tell JudgeBoompointeryou'vegothim,andyekinsendhimbackwhenyou'resafe.Thejudgewillbemightygladtogethimback,andcallitquits.Soefyou'vewrittoSalomyJane,come."

MadisonClaynolongerhesitated.SalomyJanemightreturnatanymoment,—itwouldbepartofher"foolwomanishness,"—andhewasinnomoodtoseeherbeforeathirdparty.Helaidthenoteonthetable,gaveahurriedglancearoundthehouse,whichhegrimlybelievedhewasleavingforever,and,stridingtothedoor,leapedonthestolenhorse,andsweptawaywithhiskinsman.

But thatnote lay for aweekundisturbedon the table in full viewof theopendoor.Thehousewasinvadedbyleaves,pinecones,birds,andsquirrelsduringthe hot, silent, empty days, and at night by shy, stealthy creatures, but neveragain,dayornight,byanyoftheClayfamily.ItwasknowninthedistrictthatClayhad flownacross the state line,hisdaughterwasbelieved tohave joinedhim the next day, and the housewas supposed to be locked up. It lay off themainroad,andfewpassedthatway.Thestarvingcattleinthecorralatlastbrokebounds and spread over thewoods.And one night a stronger blast than usualswept through the house, carried the note from the table to the floor, where,whirledintoacrackintheflooring,itslowlyrotted.

Butthoughthestingofherfather'sreproachwassparedher,SalomyJanehadnoneedofthelettertoknowwhathadhappened.ForassheenteredthewoodsinthedimlightofthatmorningshesawthefigureofDartglidingfromtheshadowofapinetowardsher.Theunaffectedcryofjoythatrosefromherlipsdiedthereasshecaughtsightofhisfaceintheopenlight.

"Youarehurt,"shesaid,clutchinghisarmpassionately.

"No,"hesaid."ButIwouldn'tmindthatif"—

"You'rethinkin'IwasafeardtocomebacklastnightwhenIheardtheshootin',butIDIDcome,"shewentonfeverishly."IranbackherewhenIheardthetwoshots,butyouweregone.Iwenttothecorral,butyourhosswasn'tthere,andIthoughtyou'dgotaway."

"IDIDgetaway,"saidDartgloomily."Ikilledtheman,thinkin'hewashuntin'ME,andforgettin'Iwasdisguised.HethoughtIwasyourfather."

"Yes,"saidthegirljoyfully,"hewasafterdad,andYOU—youkilledhim."Sheagaincaughthishandadmiringly.

Buthedidnot respond.Possibly therewerepointsofhonorwhich thishorse-thieffeltvaguelywithherfather."Listen,"hesaidgrimly."Othersthinkitwasyourfatherkilledhim.WhenIdidit—forhefiredatmefirst—Irantothecorralagainandtookmyhoss,thinkin'Imightbefollered.Imadeaclearcircuitofthehouse,andwhenIfoundhewastheonlyone,andnoonewasfollerin',Icomeback here and took offmy disguise. Then I heard his friends find him in thewood, and I know they suspected your father. And then another man comethrough the woods while I was hidin' and found the clothes and took themaway."Hestoppedandstaredathergloomily.

Butallthiswasunintelligibletothegirl."Dadwouldhavegotthebetterofhimefyouhadn't,"shesaideagerly,"sowhat'sthedifference?"

"Allthesame,"hesaidgloomily,"Imusttakehisplace."

Shedidnotunderstand,butturnedherheadtohermaster."Thenyou'llgobackwithmeandtellhimALL?"shesaidobediently.

"Yes,"hesaid.

Sheputherhandinhis,andtheycreptoutofthewoodtogether.Sheforesawathousanddifficulties, but, chiefest of all, that he did not love as she did. SHEwouldnothavetakentheserisksagainsttheirhappiness.

Butalasforethicsandheroism.Astheywereissuingfromthewoodtheyheardthe sound of galloping hoofs, and had barely time to hide themselves beforeMadisonClay,onthestolenhorseofJudgeBoompointer,sweptpastthemwith

hiskinsman.

SalomyJaneturnedtoherlover.

......

AndhereImight,asamoralromancer,pause,leavingtheguilty,passionategirleloped with her disreputable lover, destined to lifelong shame and misery,misunderstood to the lastbyacriminal, fastidiousparent.But Iamconfrontedbycertainfacts,onwhichthisromanceisbased.Amonthlaterahandbillwaspostedononeofthesentinelpines,announcingthatthepropertywouldbesoldbyauctiontothehighestbidderbyMrs.JohnDart,daughterofMadisonClay,Esq., and it was sold accordingly. Still later—by ten years—the chronicler ofthese pages visited a certain "stock" or "breeding farm," in the "Blue GrassCountry," famous for the popular racers it has produced.Hewas told that theownerwasthe"bestjudgeofhorse-fleshinthecountry.""Smallwonder,"addedhis informant, "for they sayas ayoungmanout inCaliforniahewasahorse-thief,andonlysavedhimselfbyelopingwithsomerichfarmer'sdaughter.Buthe'sastraight-outandrespectablemannow,whosewordabouthorsescan'tbebought;andasforhiswife,she'sabeauty!Toseeheratthe'Springs,'riggedoutin the latest fashion,you'dnever thinkshehadever livedoutofNewYorkorwasn'tthewifeofoneofitsmillionaires."

THEMANANDTHEMOUNTAIN

He was such a large, strong man that, when he first set foot in the littleparallelogramIcalledmygarden,itseemedtoshrinktohalfitssizeandbecomepreposterous. But I noticed at the same time that hewas holding in the openpalm of his huge hand the roots of a violet,with such infinite tenderness anddelicacy that Iwould have engaged him asmy gardener on the spot.But thiscould not be, as he was already the proud proprietor of a market-garden andnursery on the outskirts of the suburban Californian town where I lived. Hewould,however,comefortwodaysintheweek,stockandlookaftermygarden,andimparttomyurbanintellectsuchhorticulturalhintsaswerenecessary.Hisnamewas "Rutli," which I presumed to be German, but whichmy neighborsrendered as "Rootleigh," possibly from some vague connection with hisoccupation. His own knowledge of English was oral and phonetic. I have a

delightfulrecollectionofabillofhisinwhichIwaschargedfor"fioletz,"withthe vague addition of "maine cains." Subsequent explanation proved it to be"manykinds."

Nevertheless, my little garden bourgeoned and blossomed under his large,protectinghand.Ibecameaccustomedtowalkaroundhisfeetrespectfullywhentheyblockedthetinypaths,andtoexpectthetotaleclipseofthatgarden-bedonwhich heworked, by his huge bulk. For the tiniest andmost reluctant rootletseemedtorespondtohiscaressingpaternaltouch;itwasaprettysighttoseehishugefingerstyingupsomeslenderstalktoitsstickwiththesmallestthread,andhehada reverentwayof layingabulbor seed in theground, and thengentlyshapingandsmoothingasmallmoundoverit,whichmadethelittleinscriptionon the stick above more like an affecting epitaph than ever. Much of thisgentlenessmayhavebeenthatapologyforhisgreatstrength,commonwithlargemen; but his facewas distinctly amiable, and his very light blue eyeswere attimeswistfulanddoglikeintheirkindliness.Iwassoontolearn,however,thatplacabilitywasnotentirelyhisnature.

Thegardenwaspartofafiftyvara lotof land,onwhichIwassimultaneouslyerecting a house. But the garden was finished before the house was, throughcertain circumstances very characteristic of that epoch and civilization. I hadpurchasedtheSpanishtitle,theonlyLEGALone,totheland,which,however,hadbeeninPOSSESSIONofa"squatter."Buthehadbeenunabletoholdthatpossessionagainsta"jumper,"—anotherkindofsquatterwhohadentereduponitcovertly,fenceditin,andmarkeditoutinbuildingsites.Neitherhavinglegalrights,theycouldnotinvokethelaw;thelastmanheldpossession.Therewasnodoubt that induecourseof litigationandtimeboth these ingenuousgentlemenwould have been dispossessed in favor of the real owner,—myself,—but thatcoursewouldbeaprotractedone.Followingtheusualcustomofthelocality,Ipaid a certain sum to the jumper to yield up peaceablyHIS possession of theland, and began to build upon it. It might be reasonably supposed that thequestionwassettled.But itwasnot.Thehousewasnearly finishedwhen,onemorning, Iwascalledoutofmyeditorial sanctumbyapallidpainter, lookingevenmorewhite-leadedthanusual,whoinformedmethatmyhousewasinthepossessionof fivearmedmen!Theentryhadbeenmadepeaceablyduring thepainters'absencetodinnerunderawaysidetree.Whentheyreturned, theyhadfound their pots andbrushes in the road, and an intimation from thewindowsthattheirreentrancewouldbeforciblyresistedasatrespass.

I honestly believe that Rutli was more concerned than myself over thisdispossession.WhileheloyallybelievedthatIwouldgetbackmyproperty,hewas dreadfully grieved over the inevitable damage that would be done to thegarden during this interval of neglect and carelessness. I even think hewouldhavemadeatrucewithmyenemies,iftheywouldonlyhavelethimlookafterhisbelovedplants.Asitwas,hekeptapassingbutmelancholysurveillanceofthem,andwasindeedabetterspyoftheactionsoftheintrudersthananyIcouldhaveemployed.Oneday, tomyastonishment,hebroughtmeamoss-rosebudfromabushwhichhadbeentrainedagainstacolumnoftheveranda.Itappearedthathehadcalled, fromover the fence, theattentionofoneof themen to theneglectedconditionoftheplant,andhadobtainedpermissionto"comeinandtieit up."Themen, beingmerely hirelings of the chief squatter, had no personalfeeling, and I was not therefore surprised to hear that they presently allowedRutlitocomeinoccasionallyandlookafterhisprecious"slips."Iftheyhadanysuspicionsofhisgreatstrength,itwasprobablyoffsetbyhispeacefulavocationand his bland, childlike face. Meantime, I had begun the usual useless legalproceeding,buthadalsoengageda fewrascalsofmyown tobeready to takeadvantage of any want of vigilance on the part of my adversaries. I neverthoughtofRutliinthatconnectionanymorethantheyhad.

A few Sundays later I was sitting in the little tea-arbor of Rutli's nursery,peacefullysmokingwithhim.Presentlyhetookhislongchina-bowledpipefromhismouth,and,lookingatmeblandlyoverhisyellowmustache,said:—

"Youvontssometimestogoindothouse,eh?"

Isaid,"Decidedly."

"Mitarevolver,andkeepdothousedosemenout?"

"Yes!"

"Vell!Iputyouindothouse—today!"

"Sunday?"

"Shoostso!It isagootday!OnderSuntayDREEmenvilloutgotovalkmitdemselluffs, and visky trinken. TWO," holding up two gigantic fingers,apparently only a shade or two smaller than his destined victims, "stay dere.DoseIliftdefenceover."

IhastenedtoinformhimthatanyviolenceattemptedagainstthepartiesWHILEINPOSSESSION, although that possessionwas illegal,would, by a fatuityofthelaw,landhiminthecountyjail.IsaidIwouldnothearofit.

"Butsupposederevosnofiolence?Supposedosemenvosvillin',eh?Howvosdotforhigh?"

"Idon'tunderstand."

"So!YoushallNOTunderstand!Dotisbetter.Goawaynowanddellyourmentocoomdothousearountathalluffpastdree.ButYOUcoom,mityourselluffalone,shoostasifyouvosspazierengehen,foravalk,bydatfenceatdree!Venyoushalldotfrontdoorvideopensee,goin,anddereyouvos!Youvillderrestleeftome!"

ItwasinvainthatIbeggedRutlitodivulgehisplan,andpointedoutagainthedangerofhistechnicallybreakingthelaw.Buthewasfirm,assuringmethatImyselfwouldbeawitnessthatnoassaultwouldbemade.Ilookedintohisclear,good-humoredeyes,andassented.Ihadaburningdesiretorightmywrongs,butIthinkIalsohadconsiderablecuriosity.

IpassedamiserablequarterofanhourafterIhadwarnedmypartisans,andthenwalkedaloneslowlydownthebroadleafystreettowardsthesceneofcontest.Ihaveaveryvividrecollectionofmyconflictingemotions.IdidnotbelievethatIwouldbekilled;Ihadnodistinctintentionofkillinganyofmyadversaries;butIhadsomeconsiderableconcernformyloyalfriendRutli,whomIforesawmightbeinsomeperilfromtherevolverinmyunpracticedhand.IfIcouldonlyavoidshootingHIM,Iwouldbesatisfied. I remember that thebellswereringingforchurch,—achurchofwhichmyenemy,thechiefsquatter,wasadeaconingoodstanding,—andIfeltguiltilyconsciousofmyrevolverinmyhip-pocket,astwoorthreechurch-goerspassedmewiththeirhymn-booksintheirhands.Iwalkedleisurely,soasnottoattractattention,andtoappearattheexacttime,anotveryeasy task in my youthful excitement. At last I reached the front gate with abeatingheart.Therewasnooneonthehighveranda,whichoccupiedthreesidesofthelowone-storiedhouse,norinthegardenbeforeit.Butthefrontdoorwasopen;Isoftlypassedthroughthegate,darteduptheverandaandintothehouse.Asingleglancearoundthehallandbare,desertedrooms,stillsmellingofpaint,showedmeitwasempty,andwithmypistol inonehandandtheotheron thelockof thedoor, I stood inside, ready tobolt itagainstanyonebutRutli.But

wherewasHE?

The sound of laughter and a noise like skylarking came from the rear of thehouse and the back yard. Then I suddenly heard Rutli's heavy tread on theveranda, but itwas slow, deliberate, and so exaggerated in itsweight that thewhole house seemed to shake with it. Then from the window I beheld anextraordinarysight!ItwasRutli,swayingfromsidetoside,butsteadilycarryingwithoutstretchedarmstwoofthesquatterparty,hishandstightlygraspingtheircollars.Yet Ibelievehis touchwasasgentleaswith theviolets.His facewaspreternaturally grave; theirs, to my intense astonishment, while they hungpassive from his arms,wore that fatuous, imbecile smile seen on the faces ofthosewholendthemselvestotricksofacrobatsandstrongmeninthearena.Heslowly traversed thewhole length of one side of the house,walked down thestepstothegate,andthengravelydepositedthemOUTSIDE.Iheardhimsay,"Dot vins der pet, ain't it?" and immediately after the sharp click of the gate-latch.

Withoutunderstandinga thing thathadhappened, I rightlyconceived thiswasthecueformyappearancewithmyrevolverat thefrontdoor.AsIopeneditIstillheardthesoundoflaughter,which,however,instantlystoppedatasentencefromRutli,whichIcouldnothear.Therewasanoath,themomentaryapparitionoftwofuriousandindignantfacesoverthefence;butthese,however,seemedtobeinstantlyextinguishedandputdownbytheenormouspalmsofRutliclappedupon theirheads.Therewasapause,and thenRutli turnedaroundandquietlyjoinedmeinthedoorway.Butthegatewasnotagainopeneduntilthearrivalofmypartisans,whenthehousewasclearlyinmypossession.

Safeinsidewiththedoorbolted,IturnedeagerlytoRutliforanexplanation.Itthenappearedthatduringhisoccasionalvisitstothegardenhehadoftenbeenanobject of amusement and criticism to the men on account of his size, whichseemedtothemridiculouslyinconsistentwithhisgreatgoodhumor,gentleness,anddelicacyoftouch.Theyhaddoubtedhisstrengthandchallengedhispowers.Hehadrespondedonceortwicebefore,liftingweightsorevencarryingoneofhiscriticsatarm'slengthforafewsteps.Buthehadreservedhisfinalfeatforthis day and this purpose. It was for a bet, which they had eagerly accepted,secure in their belief in his simplicity, the sincerity of hismotives in comingthere,andgladof theopportunityofa littleSundaydiversion.In theirsecuritytheyhadnotlockedthedoorwhentheycameout,andhadnotnoticedthatHEhadopenedit.Thiswashissimplestory.Hisonlycomment,"Ihafvonderpet,

but I dinks I shall nod gollect der money." The two men did not return thatafternoon, nor did their comrades.Whether theywisely conceived that amanwhowassopowerfulinplaymightbeterribleinearnest;whethertheyknewthathis act, in which they had been willing performers, had been witnessed bypassingcitizens,whosupposeditwasskylarking;orwhethertheiremployergottiredofhisexpensiveoccupation,Ineverknew.Thepublicbelievedthelatter;Rutli,myself,andthetwomenhehadevictedalonekeptoursecret.

FromthattimeRutliandIbecamefirmfriends,and,longafterIhadnofurtherneedofhisservicesintherecapturedhouse,Ioftenfoundmyselfinthelittletea-arbor of his prosperous nursery. He was frugal, sober, and industrious; smallwonder that in that growing town he waxed rich, and presently opened arestaurant in themainstreet, connectedwithhismarket-garden,whichbecamefamous.His relations tome never changedwith his changed fortunes; hewasalways the simple market-gardener and florist who had aided my firsthousekeeping, and stood by me in an hour of need. Of all things regardinghimself he was singularly reticent; I do not think he had any confidants orintimates,evenamonghisowncountrymen,whomIbelievedtobeGerman.ButonedayhequiteaccidentallyadmittedhewasaSwiss.Asayouthfuladmirerofthe race Iwasdelighted, and toldhim so,with the enthusiastic addition that Icould now quite understand his independence, with his devoted adherence toanother'scause.Hesmiledsadly,andastonishedmebysaying thathehadnotheard from Switzerland since he left six years ago. He did not want to hearanything;heevenavoidedhiscountrymenlestheshould.Iwasconfounded.

"But," I said, "surely you have a longing to return to your country; all Swisshave! You will go back some day just to breathe the air of your nativemountains."

"I shall go back some days," said Rutli, "after I have made mooch, moochmoney,butnotfordotair."

"Whatfor,then?"

"Forrevenge—togetefen."

Surprised,andforamomentdismayedasIwas,Icouldnothelplaughing."Rutliandrevenge!"Impossible!Andtomakeitthemoreabsurd,hewasstillsmokinggentlyandregardingmewithsoft,complacenteyes.Sounchangedwashisface

andmannerthathemighthavetoldmehewasgoingbacktobemarried.

"Youdonotoonderstand,"hesaidforgivingly."SomedaysIshalldelltoyouid.Idisastory.Youshallmakeityoursellufffordosebabersdotyouwrite.Itisnotbretty,berhaps,ain'tit,butitisdroo.Anddeendtisnotyet."

OnlythatRutlineverjoked,exceptinaponderousfashionwithmanyinvolvedsentences,Ishouldhavethoughthewastakingagood-humoredriseoutofme.Butitwasnotfunny.IamafraidIdismisseditfrommymindasarevelationofsomethingweakandpuerile,quiteinconsistentwithhispracticalcommonsenseandstrongsimplicity,andwishedhehadnotalludedtoit.Ineveraskedhimtotellmethestory.Itwasayearlater,andonlywhenhehadinvitedmetocometotheopeningofanewhotel,erectedbyhimatamountainspaofgreatresort,thathehimselfalludedtoit.

The hotel was a wonderful affair, even for those days, and Rutli's outlay ofcapitalconvincedmethatbythistimehemusthavemadethe"moochmoney"hecoveted.Somethingofthiswasinmymindwhenwesatbythewindowofhishandsomely furnished private office, overlooking the pines of a Californiancanyon.IaskedhimifthescenerywaslikeSwitzerland.

"Ach!no!"hereplied;"butIvillpuildahotelshoostlikedisdare."

"Isthatapartofyourrevenge?"Iasked,withalaugh.

"Ah!so!abart."

I felt relieved; a revenge so practical did not seem very malicious or idiotic.Afterapausehepuffedcontemplativelyathispipe, and thensaid, "Idellyousomedingsofdotstorynow."

He began. I should like to tell it in his own particular English, mixed withAmericanslang,butitwouldnotconveythesimplicityofthenarrator.Hewasthe son of a large family who had lived for centuries in one of the highestvillages in the Bernese Oberland. He attained his size and strength early, butwith a singular distaste to use them in the rough regular work on the farm,although he was a great climber and mountaineer, and, what was at firstoverlookedasmereboyishfancy,hadaninsatiableloveandcuriousknowledgeofplantsandflowers.HeknewthehauntsofEdelweiss,Alpinerose,andbluegentian,andhadbroughthomerareandunknownblossomsfromundertheicy

lipsofglaciers.Butashedidthiswhenhistimewassupposedtobeoccupiedinlooking after the cows in the higher pastures and making cheeses, there wastrouble in that hard-working, practical family. A giant with the tastes anddisposition of a schoolgirl was an anomaly in a Swiss village. Unfortunatelyagain, hewasnot studious; his record in thevillage school hadbeenon aparwithhismanualwork,andthefamilyhadnoteventheconsolationofbelievingthattheywerefosteringagenius.Inacommunitywherepracticalindustrywasthe highest virtue, it was not strange, perhaps, that he was called "lazy" and"shiftless;"nooneknewthelongclimbsandtirelessvigilshehadundergoneinremote solitudes in quest of his favorites, or, knowing, forgave him for it.Abstemious, frugal, andpatient ashewas, even the crustsofhis father's tableweregivenhimgrudgingly.Heoftenwenthungryratherthanaskthebreadhehad failed to earn. How his great framewas nurtured in those days he neverknew; perhaps the giant mountains recognized some kin in him and fed andstrengthenedhimafter theirown fashion.Evenhisgentlenesswasconfoundedwith cowardice. "Dot vos de hardtest," he said simply; "it is not goot to beopligit tohalf crushyourbrudder, venhewouldmakea laughofyou toyoursweetheart."Theendcamesoonerthanheexpected,and,oddlyenough,throughthis sweetheart. "Gottlieb," she said tohimoneday, "theEnglishFremdewhostayed here last night met me when I was carrying some of those beautifulflowersyougaveme.Heaskedmewheretheyweretobefound,andItoldhimonlyYOUknew.Hewantstoseeyou;gotohim.Itmaybelucktoyou."Rutliwent. The stranger, an EnglishAlpine climber of scientific tastes, talkedwithhim for an hour. At the end of that time, to everybody's astonishment, heengagedthishopelessidlerashispersonalguideforthreemonths,atthesumoffivefrancsaday!Itwasinconceivable,itwasunheardof!TheEnglanderwasasmad as Gottlieb, whose intellect had always been under suspicion! Theschoolmasterpurseduphislips,thepastorshookhishead;nogoodcouldcomeofit;thefamilylookeduponitasanotherfreakofGottlieb's,buttherewasonebigmouthlesstofeedandmoreroominthekitchen,andtheylethimgo.Theypartedfromhimasungraciouslyastheyhadenduredhispresence.

Then followed two months of sunshine in Rutli's life—association with hisbelovedplants,and the intelligent sympathyanddirectionofacultivatedman.Eveninaltitudessodangerousthattheyhadtotakeotherandmoreexperiencedguides,Rutliwasalwaysathismaster'sside.Thatsavant'scollectionofAlpinefloraexcelledallpreviousones;hetalkedfreelywithRutlioffurtherworkinthefuture, and relaxed his English reserve so far as to confide to him that theoutcomeoftheircollectionandobservationmightbeabook.Hegaveaflowera

Latin name, in which even the ignorant and delighted Rutli could distinguishsomelikenesstohisown.Butthebookwasnevercompiled.Inoneoftheirlaterandmoredifficultascents theyand their twoadditionalguideswereovertakenbyasuddenstorm.Sweptfromtheirfeetdownanice-boundslope,Rutlialoneoftheroped-togetherpartykeptafootholdonthetreacherousincline.Herethisyoung Titan, with bleeding fingers clenched in a rock cleft, sustained thestruggles and held up the lives of his companions by that precious thread formore than an hour. Perhaps hemight have saved them, but in their desperateeffortstoregaintheirfootingtheropeslippeduponajaggededgeofoutcropandparted as if cut by a knife. The two guides passed without an outcry intoobscurity anddeath;Rutli,with a last despairing exertion, dragged tohis ownlevelhisunconsciousmaster,crippledbyabrokenleg.

Your true hero is apt to tell his tale simply. Rutli did not dwell upon thesedetails,norneedI.Leftaloneupona treacherousiceslopeinbenumbingcold,withahelplessman,eighthoursafterwardshestaggered,halfblind,incoherent,and inarticulate, into a "shelter" hut, with the dead body of his master in hisstiffenedarms.Theshelter-keepersturnedtheirattentiontoRutli,whoneededitmost.Blindanddelirious,withscarceachanceforlife,hewassentthenextdaytoahospital,wherehe lay for threemonths,helpless, imbecile, andunknown.ThedeadbodyoftheEnglishmanwasidentified,andsenthome;thebodiesoftheguideswererecoveredbytheirfriends;butnooneknewaughtofRutli,evenhis name.While the eventwas still fresh in theminds of thosewho saw himenter the hut with the body of his master, a paragraph appeared in a Bernejournal recording the heroism of this nameless man. But it could not becorroboratednorexplainedby thedementedhero,andwaspresentlyforgotten.Sixmonthsfromthedayhehadlefthishomehewasdischargedcured.Hehadnotakreutzerinhispocket;hehadneverdrawnhiswagesfromhisemployer;hehadpreferredtohaveitinalumpsumthathemightastonishhisfamilyonhisreturn. His eyes were still weak, his memory feeble; only his great physicalstrength remained through his long illness. A few sympathizing travelersfurnishedhimthemeanstoreachhisnativevillage,manymilesaway.Hefoundhis family had heard of the loss of the Englishman and the guides, and hadbelievedhewasoneofthem.Alreadyhewasforgotten.

"Venyouvosoncepeliefedtobedet,"saidRutli,afteraphilosophicpauseandpuff, "it vos not goot to ondeceif beoples.You oopset somedings, soomdimesalways.Derholedotyouhefmadeindergrount,amongyourfrientsandyourfamily,voscoveredupalretty.Youareloockyifyouvillnotfintsomevellars

shtandinguponid!Myfrent,venyouvosDINKdet,SHTAYdet,BEdet,andyouvilllifhappy!"

"Butyoursweetheart?"Isaideagerly.

Aslightgleamofsatirestole intoRutli's lighteyes."Mysweetheart,venIvosdinksdet,isdermillerengageddobromply!Itismoochbetterdantoamandotvosboor andplint andgrazy!So!Vell, der next day I pids demgoot-py, undfromderdoorIsay, 'Iamdetnow;butvenInextcomespackalife,Ishalldisvillage py! der lants, der houses all togedders. And den for yourselluffs lookoudt!'"

"Then that's your revenge?That iswhat you really intend to do?" I said, halflaughing,yetwithanuneasyrecollectionofhisillnessandenfeebledmind.

"Yes.Lookhere!Ishowyousomedings."Heopenedadrawerofhisdeskandtookoutwhatappeared tobesomediagrams,plans,andasmallwater-coloredmap, like a surveyor's tracing. "Look," he said, laying his finger on the latter,"dat is amap frommy fillage. I hefmyselluffmade it out frommymemory.Dot,"pointing toablankspace, "isdermountain sidehighup, so far. It isnogootuntil Ivilla tunnelmakeordergrade lefel.Derevasminefader'shouse,derevosderchurch,derschoolhouse,dotvosdeburgomaster'shouse,"hewenton, pointing to the respective plots in this old curving parallelogram of themountain shelf. "So was the fillage when I leave him on the 5th of March,eighteenhundredandfeefty.Nowyoushallseehimshoostas Ivillmakehimven I go back." He took up another plan, beautifully drawn and colored, andevidently done by a professional hand. Itwas a practical, yet almost fairyliketransformation of the same spot! The narrowmountain shelf waswidened byexcavation,andaboulevardstretchedoneitherside.Agreathotel,notunliketheoneinwhichwesat,stoodinanopenterrace,withgardensandfountains—thesiteofhisfather'shouse.Blocksofprettydwellings,shops,andcafesfilledtheintermediatespace.Ilaiddownthepaper.

"Howlonghaveyouhadthisidea?"

"EfersinceIleftdere,fifteenyearsago."

"Butyourfatherandmothermaybedeadbythistime?"

"So,butderevillbeodders.Undderblace—itvillremain."

"Butallthiswillcostafortune,andyouarenotsure"—

"Iknowshoostvotidvillgost,toacend."

"Andyouthinkyoucaneveraffordtocarryoutyouridea?"

"IVILLaffortid.VenyoushallmakeyetsomemoneysandgotoEurope,youshallsee.IVILLinfiteyouderefirst.Nowcoomandlookderhousearound."

......

IdidNOTmake"somemoneys,"butIDIDgotoEurope.ThreeyearsafterthislastinterviewwithRutliIwascomingfromInterlakentoBernebyrail.Ihadnotheardfromhim,andIhadforgottenthenameofhisvillage,butasIlookedupfromthepaperIwasreading,Isuddenlyrecognizedhiminthefurtherendofthesamecompartment Ioccupied.His recognitionofmewasevidently as suddenandunexpected.Afterourfirsthand-graspandgreeting,Isaid:—

"Andhowaboutournewvillage?"

"Dereisnofillage."

"What!Youhavegivenuptheidea?"

"Yes.Thereisnofillage,oltornew."

"Idon'tunderstand."

Helookedatmeamoment."Youhavenotheard?"

"No."

Hegentlypickedupa little localguidebookthat lay inmylap,and turning itsleaves,pointedtoapage,andreadasfollows:—

"5M.beyond,thetrainpassesacurveR.,whereafineviewofthelakemaybeseen.AlittletotheR.risesthesteepslopesofthe——,thesceneofaterribledisaster. At three o'clock on March 5, 1850, the little village of ——, lyingmidwayoftheslope,withitspopulationof950souls,wascompletelydestroyedbyalandslipfromthetopofthemountain.Sosuddenwasthecatastrophethat

notasingleescapeisrecorded.Alargeportionofthemountaincrest,aswillbeobserved when it is seen in profile, descended to the valley, burying theunfortunate village to a depth variously estimated at from1000 ft. to 1800 ft.The geological causes which produced this extraordinary displacement havebeen fully discussed, but the greater evidence points to the theory ofsubterraneanglaciers.5M.beyond——thetraincrossestheR.bridge."

Ilaiddowntheguidebookinbreathlessastonishment.

"Andyouneverheardofthisinalltheseyears?"

"Nefer!Iaskednoquestions,Ireadnopooks.Ihavenoleddersfromhome."

"Andyetyou"—I stopped, I couldnotcallhima fool;neithercould I, in theface of his perfect composure and undisturbed eyes, exhibit a concern greaterthanhisown.Anuneasyrecollectionofwhatheconfessedhadbeenhismentalconditionimmediatelyafterhisaccidentcameoverme.Hadhebeenthevictimofastrangehallucinationregardinghishouseandfamilyalltheseyears?Werethesedreamsofrevenge,thisfancyofcreatinganewvillage,onlyanoutcomeofsomeshockarisingoutofthedisasteritself,whichhehadlongsinceforgotten?

Hewaslookingfromthewindow."Coom,"hesaid,"vearenearderblace.Ivillshowidtoyou."Heroseandpassedouttotherearplatform.Wewereintherearcar, and a new panorama of the lake andmountains flashed upon us at everycurveoftheline.Ifollowedhim.Presentlyhepointedtowhatappearedtobeasheerwall of rock and stunted vegetation towering twoor three thousand feetaboveus,whichstartedoutofagorgewewerepassing."Dereitvos!"hesaid.Isawthevaststretchofrockfacerisingupwardandonward,butnothingelse.Nodebris,noruins,norevenaswellingorroundingofthemountainflankoverthatawful tomb. Yet, stay! as we dashed across the gorge, and the face of themountainshifted,highup,thesky-linewasslightlybrokenasifafewinches,amere handful, of the crest was crumbled away. And then—both gorge andmountainvanished.

Iwasstillembarrassedanduneasy,andknewnotwhattosaytothismanatmyside,whosehopesandambitionhadbeenasquicklyoverthrownandburied,andwhoselife-dreamhadasquicklyvanished.Buthehimself,takinghispipefromhislips,brokethesilence.

"Itvosanarrowesgabe!"

"Whatwas?"

"Vy,disdings.IfIhadstayedinmyfader'shouse,Ivouldhafbeendetforgoot,andperriedtoo!Somedimesdosedingscoomsoudtapoutright,don'tid?"

Unvanquished philosopher!Aswe stood there looking at the flying landscapeand sinking lesser hills, onebyone thegreat snowpeaks slowly arose behindthem,liftingthemselves,asiftotakealastwonderinglookatthemantheyhadtriumphedover,buthadnotsubdued.

THEPASSINGOFENRIQUEZ

WhenEnriquezSaltilloranawaywithMissMannersley,asalreadyrecordedinthesechronicles,*herrelativesandfriendsfounditmucheasier toforgivethatill-assortedunionthantounderstandit.For,afterall,EnriquezwasthescionofanoldSpanish-Californianfamily,andinduetimewouldhavehisshareofhisfather'sthreesquareleagues,whateverincongruitytherewasbetweenhislivelyLatin extravagance and Miss Mannersley's Puritan precision and intellectualsuperiority.Theyhadgone toMexico;Mrs.Saltillo, aswasknown,havinganinterestinAztecantiquities,andhebeingutterlysubmissivetoherwishes.FormyselffrommyknowledgeofEnriquez'snature,Ihadgravedoubtsofhisentiresubjugation, although I knew the prevailing opinion was that Mrs. Saltillo'ssuperiority would speedily tame him. Since his brief and characteristic noteapprisingmeofhismarriage,Ihadnotheardfromhim.Itwas,therefore,withsome surprise, a good deal of reminiscent affection, and a slight twinge ofreproachthat,twoyearsafter,Ilookedupfromsomeproofs,inthesanctumofthe"DailyExcelsior,"torecognizehishandwritingonanotethatwashandedtomebyayellowMexicanboy.

AsingleglanceatitscontentsshowedmethatMrs.Saltillo'scorrectBostonianspeechhadnotyetsubduedEnriquez'speculiarSpanish-Americanslang:—

"Hereweareagain,—rightsideupwithcare,—at1110DupontStreet,TelegraphHill.Secondfloorfromtop.'Ringandpush.''Nobookagentsneedapply.'How'syourroyalnibs?Ikissyourhand!Comeatsix,—thebandshallplayatseven,—andregardyourfriend'MeesBoston,'whowilltellyouaboutthelittleoldniggerboys,andyouroldUncle'Ennery."

Two things struck me: Enriquez had not changed;Mrs. Saltillo had certainlyyieldedupsomeofherpeculiarprejudices.Fortheaddressgiven,farfrombeingafashionabledistrict,wasknownasthe"Spanishquarter,"which,whileitstillheld some old Spanish families, was chiefly given over to half-castes andobscurerforeigners.EvenpovertycouldnothavedrivenMrs.Saltillotosucharefuge against her will; nevertheless, a good deal of concern for Enriquez'sfortune mingled with my curiosity, as I impatiently waited for six o'clock tosatisfyit.

Itwasabreezyclimb to1110DupontStreet;andalthough thestreethadbeengraded, the houses retained their airy elevation, and were accessible only bysuccessiveflightsofwoodenstepstothefrontdoor,whichstillgaveperilouslyupon the street, sixty feet below. I now painfully appreciated Enriquez'sadaptationofthetime-honoredjokeaboutthesecondfloor.AninvinciblesmellofgarlicalmosttookmyremainingbreathawayasthedoorwasopenedtomebyaswarthyMexicanwoman,whoseloosecamisaseemedtobeslippingfromher unstable bust, and was held on only by the mantua-like shawl whichsupplemented it, gripped by one brown hand. Dizzy from my ascent to thatnarrow perch, which looked upon nothing but the distant bay and shores ofContra Costa, I felt as apologetic as if I had landed from a balloon; but thewoman greetedmewith a languid Spanish smile and a lazy display of whiteteeth, as if my arrival was quite natural. Don Enriquez, "of a fact," was nothimself in thecasa,butwasexpected"on the instant." "DonnaUrania"wasathome.

"DonnaUrania"?ForaninstantIhadforgottenthatMrs.Saltillo'sfirstnamewasUrania, so pleasantly and spontaneously did it fall from the Spanish lips.NorwasIdispleasedatthischanceoflearningsomethingofDonEnriquez'sfortunesandtheSaltillomenagebeforeconfrontingmyoldfriend.Theservantprecededmetothenextfloor,and,openingadoor,usheredmeintothelady'spresence.

I had carried with me, on that upward climb, a lively recollection of MissMannersley as I had known her two years before. I remembered her upright,almost stiff, slight figure, the graceful precision of her poses, the faultlesssymmetry and taste of her dress, and the atmosphere of a fastidious andwholesomecleanlinesswhichexhaledfromher.IntheladyIsawbeforeme,halfreclininginarocking-chair,therewasnoneofthestiffnessandnicety.Habitedin a loose gown of some easy, flexible, but rich material, worn with thatpeculiarlyindolentslouchoftheMexicanwoman,Mrs.Saltillohadpartedwith

half her individuality. Even her arched feet and thin ankles, the close-fittingbootsorsmall slippersofwhichwerewont toaccent theirdelicacy,werenowlostinashort,low-quarteredkidshoeoftheSpanishtype,inwhichtheymovedloosely.Herhair,which shehadalwayswornwitha certainGreek simplicity,was parted at one side.Yet her face,with its regularity of feature, and small,thin,red-lippedmouth,wasquiteunchanged;andhervelvetybrowneyeswereasbeautifulandinscrutableasever.

With thesameglance Ihad taken inhersurroundings,quiteas incongruous toher former habits. The furniture, though of old and heavy mahogany, hadsuffered from careless alien hands, and was interspersed with modern andunmatchablemakeshifts,yetpreserving thedistinctly scant and formalattitudeof furnished lodgings. It was certainly unlike the artistic trifles and delicaterefinements of her uncle's drawing-room, which we all knew her taste haddictated and ruled. The black and white engravings, the outlined heads ofMinerva and Diana, were excluded from the walls for two cheap coloredCatholic prints,—a soulless Virgin, and the mystery of the Bleeding Heart.Againstthewall,inonecorner,hungtheonlyobjectwhichseemedamementoof their travels,—a singular-looking upright Indian "papoose-case" or cradle,glaringlydecoratedwithbeadsandpaint, probablyanAztec relic.Ona roundtable,thevelvetcoverofwhichshowedmarksofusageandabusage,therewerescattered books and writing materials; and my editorial instinct suddenlyrecognized, with a thrill of apprehension, the loose leaves of an undoubtedmanuscript.Thiscircumstance,takenwiththefactofDonnaUrania'shairbeingpartedononeside,andthegeneralnegligeeofherappearance,wasadisturbingrevelation.

Mywanderingeyeapparentlystruckher,forafterthefirstgreetingshepointedtothemanuscriptwithasmile.

"Yes;thatisTHEmanuscript.IsupposeEnriqueztoldyouallaboutit?Hesaidhehadwritten."

Iwasdumfounded. I certainlyhadnotunderstoodALLofEnriquez's slang; itwas always so decidedly his own, and peculiar. Yet I could not recall anyallusiontothis.

"Hetoldmesomethingofit,butveryvaguely,"Iventuredtosaydeprecatingly;"but I am afraid that I thought more of seeing my old friend again than of

anythingelse."

"DuringourstayinMexico,"continuedMrs.Saltillo,withsomethingofheroldprecision,"Imadesomeresearches intoAztechistory,asubjectalwaysdeeplyinterestingtome,andIthoughtIwouldutilizetheresultbythrowingitonpaper.Ofcourseitisbetterfittedforavolumeofreferencethanforanewspaper,butEnriquezthoughtyoumightwanttouseitforyourjournal."

IknewthatEnriquezhadnotasteforliterature,andhadevenratherdepreciatedit in the old days, with his usual extravagance; but I managed to say verypleasantlythatIwasdelightedwithhissuggestionandshouldbegladtoreadthemanuscript.Afterall,itwasnotimprobablethatMrs.Saltillo,whowaseducatedand intelligent, should write well, if not popularly. "Then Enriquez does notbegrudgeyouthetimethatyourworktakesfromhim,"Iaddedlaughingly."Youseemtohaveoccupiedyourhoneymoonpractically."

"Wequitecomprehendourrespectiveduties,"saidMrs.Saltillodryly;"andhavefrom the first. We have our own lives to live, independent of my uncle andEnriquez's father. We have not only accepted the responsibility of our ownactions, but we both feel the higher privilege of creating our own conditionswithoutextraneousaidfromourrelatives."

It struckme that this somewhat exalted statementwas decidedly a pose, or areturnofUraniaMannersley'soldironicalstyle.Ilookedquietlyintoherbrown,near-sightedeyes;but,asoncebefore,myglanceseemedtoslipfromtheirmoistsurfacewithoutpenetratingtheinnerthoughtbeneath."AndwhatdoesEnriquezdoforHISpart?"Iaskedsmilingly.

I fully expected to hear that the energetic Enriquez was utilizing his peculiartastes and experiences by horse-breaking, stock-raising, professional bull-fighting, or even horse-racing, but was quite astonished when she answeredquietly:—

"Enriquezisgivinghimselfuptogeologyandpracticalmetallurgy,withaviewtoscientific,purelyscientific,mining."

Enriquezandgeology!InthatinstantallIcouldrememberofitwerehisgibesatthe"geologian,"ashewaswont to termProfessorDobbs,a formeradmirerofMissMannersley's.Toadd tomyconfusionMrs.Saltillo at the samemomentabsolutelyvoicedmythought.

"Youmay rememberProfessorDobbs," shewenton calmly, "oneof themosteminent scientists over here, and a very old Boston friend. He has takenEnriquezinhand.Hisprogressismostsatisfactory;wehavethegreatesthopesofhim."

"Andhowsoondoyoubothhopetohavesomepracticalresultsofhisstudy?"Icouldnothelpaskinga littlemischievously;forIsomehowresentedthepluralpronouninherlastsentence.

"Verysoon,"saidMrs.Saltillo,ignoringeverythingbutthequestion."YouknowEnriquez's sanguine temperament. Perhaps he is already given to evolvingtheorieswithoutasufficientbasisoffact.Still,hehasthedaringofadiscoverer.His ideas of the oolitic formation are not without originality, and ProfessorDobbssaysthatinhisconceptionoftheSilurianbeachtherearegleamsthataredistinctlyprecious."

IlookedatMrs.Saltillo,whohadreinforcedhereyeswithheroldpiquantpince-nez,butcoulddetectnoironyinthem.Shewasprettilyimperturbable,thatwasall.Therewasanawkwardsilence.Then itwasbrokenbyaboundingsteponthestairs,awide-openflingofthedoor,andEnriquezpirouettedintotheroom:Enriquez,asofold,unchangedfromthecrownofhissmooth,coal-blackhairtothe tips of his small, narrow Arabian feet; Enriquez, with his thin, curlingmustache, his dancing eyes set in his immovable face, just as I had alwaysknownhim!

He affected to lapse against the door for a minute, as if staggered by aresplendentvision.Thenhesaid:—

"WhatdoIregard?Isitadream,orhaveIagaingotthem—theesjimjams?Mybestfriendandmybest—ImeanmyONLY—wife!Embraceme!"

He gave me an enthusiastic embrace and a wink like sheet-lightning, passedquicklytohiswife,beforewhomhedroppedononeknee,raisedthetoeofherslippertohislips,andthensankonthesofainsimulatedcollapse,murmuring,"Theesistoomoochofwhitestoneforoneday!"

Through all this I sawhiswife regardinghimwith exactly the same criticallyamused expression with which she had looked upon him in the days of theirstrangecourtship.Sheevidentlyhadnottiredofhisextravagance,andyetIfeelaspuzzledbyhermannerasthen.Sheroseandsaid:"Isupposeyouhaveagood

deal to say to eachother, and Iwill leave youbyyourselves."Turning to herhusband,sheadded,"IhavealreadyspokenabouttheAztecmanuscript."

Theword broughtEnriquez to his feet again. "Ah!The little old nigger—youhaveread?"Ibegantounderstand."Mywife,mybestfriend,andthelittleoldnigger,allinoneday.Eetisperfect!"Nevertheless,inspiteofthisecstaticandoverpoweringcombination,hehurriedtotakehiswife'shand;kissingit,heledhertoadooropeningintoanotherroom,madeheralowbowtothegroundasshepassedout,andthenrejoinedme.

"Sothesearethelittleoldniggersyouspokeofinyournote,"Isaid,pointingtothemanuscript."DeucetakemeifIunderstoodyou!"

"Ah,myleetlebrother,itisYOUwhohavechanged!"saidEnriquezdolorously."IsitthatyounomoreunderstandAmerican,orhavethe'bighead'oftheeditor?Regardme!Of theseAztecsmywife havemade study. She have pursued thelittle nigger to his cave, his grotto, where he is dead a thousand year. I havemyselfassist, thoughI like itnot,because theesmummy, lookyou,Pancho, isnot lively.Andthemummywhoisnotdead,believeme!even theyoungladymummy,youshallnottaketoyourheart.Butmywife"—hestopped,andkissedhishand toward thedoorwhenceshehad flitted—"ah,SHEiswonderful!Shehas made the story of them, the peecture of them, from the life and on theinstant! You shall take them, my leetle brother, for your journal; you shallannounce in thebig letter: 'MoochImportance.TheAztec,He isFound.' 'HowHe Look and Lif.' 'The Everlasting Nigger.' You shall sell many paper, andUrania shall have scoop in much spondulics and rocks. Hoop-la! For—youcomprehend?—mywifeandIhavesettledthatsheshallforgifheroncle;Ishallforgifmyfather;butfromthemwetakenocent,notared,notascad!Weareindependent!OfourselveswemakeaFourthofJuly.Unitedwestand;dividedweshallfallover!Thereyouare!Bueno!"

It was impossible to resist his wild, yet perfectly sincere, extravagance, hisdancing black eyes and occasional flash of white teeth in his otherwiseimmovableandseriouscountenance.Nevertheless,Imanagedtosay:—

"Buthowaboutyourself,Enriquez,andthisgeology,youknow?"

Hiseyes twinkled."Ah,youshallhear.But firstyoushall takeadrink. IhavetheveryoldBourbon.HeisnotsooldastheAztec,but,believeme,heisvery

much liflier. Attend! Hol' on!" He was already rummaging on a shelf, butapparentlywithoutsuccess;thenheexploredabuffet,withnobetterresults,andfinally attacked a large drawer, throwing out on the floor, with his oldimpetuosity, a number of geological specimens, carefully labeled. I picked uponethathadrollednearme.Itwaslabeled"Conglomeratesandstone."Ipickedupanother:ithadthesamelabel.

"Thenyouarereallycollecting?"Isaid,withastonishment.

"Ciertamente,"respondedEnriquez,—"whatotherfoolshallIlook?IshallrelateofthisgeologywhenIshallhavefoundthisbeastofabottle.Ah,herehehavehide!"Heextracted fromadrawerabottlenearly fullof spirits,—tipplingwasnotoneofEnriquez'svices."Youshallsay'when.''Ere'stoournobleselfs!"

Whenhehaddrunk, Ipickedupanother fragmentofhiscollection. Ithad thesamelabel."Youareveryrich in 'conglomeratesandstone,'" Isaid."Wheredoyoufindit?"

"Inthestreet,"saidEnriquez,withgreatcalmness.

"Inthestreet?"Iechoed.

"Yes,myfriend!Heeescallthe'cobblestone,'alsothe'pouding-stone,'whenheees athishome in the country.Heees also a small 'boulder.' I pickhimup; Icrackhim;hemadethreeseparatepieceofconglomeratesandstone.Ibringhimhome tomywife inmy pocket. She rejoice; we are happy.When comes theefening,Isitdownandmakehimalabel;whilemywife,shesitdownandwriteof the Aztec. Ah, my friend, you shall say of the geology it ees a fine, aBEAUTIFULstudy;butthestudyofthewife,andwhatshallpleaseher,believeme, ees much finer! Believe your old Uncle 'Ennery every time! On theesquestionhegetsthere;hegetsleft,nevarre!"

"But Professor Dobbs, your geologian, what does HE say to this frequentrecurrenceoftheconglomeratesandstoneperiodinyourstudy?"Iaskedquickly.

"Hesaynothing.Youcomprehend?Heeesaprofoundgeologian,buthealsohastheadmirationexcessifformywifeUrania."Hestoppedtokisshishandagaintowardthedoor,andlightedacigarette."Thegeologianwouldnotthatheshouldbreakupthehappyefeningofhisfriendsbytheessmalldetail.Heputasidehishead—so;hesay,'Aleetlefreestone,aleetlegranite,nowandthen,forvariety;

theyarebuildinginMontgomeryStreet.'Itakethehint,likeawinktothehorsethathasgoneblind.IattachtomyselfpartoftheedificethatiserectinghimselfinMontgomeryStreet.Icrackhim;Ibringhimhome.Isitagainat thefeetofmybeautifulUrania,andIlabelhim'Freestone,''Granite;'butIdonotsay'fromParrott'sBank'—eetisnotnecessaryforourhappiness."

"Andyoudo thissortof thingonlybecauseyou think itpleasesyourwife?" Iaskedbluntly.

"My friend," rejoinedEnriquez, perchinghimself on the backof the sofa, andcaressing his knees as he puffed his cigarette meditatively, "you have ask aconundrum.Gif tome an easier one! It is of truth that Imakemuch of thesethingtopleaseUrania.ButIshallconfessall.Behold,Iappeartoyou,myleetlebrother,inmycamisa—myshirt!Iblowonmyself;Igifmyselfaway."

Herosegravelyfromthesofa,anddrewasmallboxfromoneofthedrawersofthe wardrobe. Opening it, he discovered several specimens of gold-bearingquartz, andoneor twoscalesofgold. "Thees,"he said, "friendPancho, ismyowngeology;fortheesIamwhatyousee.ButIsaynothingtoUrania;forshehave much disgust of mere gold,—of what she calls 'vulgar mining,'—andbelieveme, a fear of the effect of 'speculation' uponmy temperamento—youcomprehendmy complexion,my brother?Reflect upon it, Pancho! I,who amthefilosofo,ifthatIamanything!"Helookedatmewithgreatlevityofeyeandsupernaturalgravityofdemeanor."Buteeteesthejealousaffectionofthewife,my friend, forwhich Imakeplay toherwith thehumble leetlepouding-stoneratherthanthegoldquartzthataffrights."

"Butwhatdoyouwantwiththem,ifyouhavenosharesinanythinganddonotspeculate?"Iasked.

"Pardon!Thateeswhereyouslipup,myleetlefriend."Hetookfromthesamedraweraclaspedportfolio,andunlockedit,producinghalfadozenprospectusesandcertificatesofminingshares.IstoodaghastasIrecognizedthenamesofoneor twoextravagant failuresof the last tenyears,—"played-out"mines that hadbeengalvanizedintodeceptivelifeinLondon,Paris,andNewYork,tothegriefofshareholdersabroadandthelaughteroftheinitiatedathome.Icouldscarcelykeep my equanimity. "You do not mean to say that you have any belief orinterestinthisrubbish?"Isaidquickly.

"What you call 'rubbish,'my good Pancho, ees the rubbish that theAmericanspeculator have dump himself upon them in the shaft, the rubbish of theadvertisement, of the extravagant expense, of the salary, of the assessment, ofthe 'freeze-out.' For thees, lookyou, is theoldMexicanmine.Mygrandfatherand hees father have both seen them work before you were born, and theAmericanknewnottherewasgoldinCalifornia."

I knew he spoke truly. One or two were original silver mines in the south,workedbypeonsandIndianslaves,aropewindlass,andavenerabledonkey.

"But those were silver mines," I said suspiciously, "and these are goldspecimens."

"Theyarefromthesamemother,"saidtheimperturbableEnriquez,—"thesamemine. The old peons worked him for SILVER, the precious dollar that buyeverything,thathesendinthegalleontothePhilippinesforthesilkandspice!THATisgoodenoughforHIM!Forthegoldhemadenothing,evenasmyleetlewifeUrania.Andregardmehere!Thereeesaproverbofmyfather'swhichsaythat'itshalltakeagoldminetoworkasilvermine,'somoochmorehecost.Youworkhim,youarelost!Naturalmente,ifyouturnhimround,ifittakeyouonlyasilverminetoworkagoldmine,youaregain.Theeseeslogic!"

Theintensegravityofhisfaceatthisextraordinarydeductionupsetmyown.ButasIwasnevercertainthatEnriquezwasnotpurposelymystifyingme,withsomeulteriorobject,Icouldnothelpsayingalittlewickedly:—

"Yes,Iunderstandallthat;buthowaboutthisgeologian?Willhenottellyourwife?Youknowhewasagreatadmirerofhers."

"Thatshallshowthegreatintelligenceofhim,myPancho.HewillhavethefourS's,'especiallythesecreto!"

There could be no serious discussion in his present mood. I gathered up thepagesofhiswife'smanuscript,saidlightlythat,asshehadthefirstclaimuponmytime,IshouldexaminetheAztecmaterialandreport inadayor two.AsIknewIhadlittlechanceinthehandsofthesetwoincomprehensiblestogether,Ibeggedhimnottocallhiswife,buttoconveymyadieustoher,and,inspiteofhis embraces and protestations, I managed to get out of the room. But I hadscarcelyreachedthefrontdoorwhenIheardEnriquez'svoiceandhisboundingsteponthestairs.Inanothermomenthisarmwasroundmyneck.

"Youmust returnon the instant!MotherofGod! Ihaf forget,SHEhaf forget,WEallhafforget!Butyouhavenotseenhim!"

"Seenwhom?"

"El nino, the baby! You comprehend, pig! The criaturica, the leetle child ofourselfs!"

"Thebaby?"Isaidconfusedly."ISthere—isthereaBABY?"

"Youhearhim?"saidEnriquez,sendinganappealingvoiceupward."Youhearhim,Urania?Youcomprehend.Thisbeastofa leetlebrotherdemands if thereeesone!"

"Ibegyourpardon,"Isaid,hurriedlyreascendingthestairs.OnthelandingImetMrs. Saltillo, but as calm, composed, and precise as her husband wasextravagantandvehement."ItwasanoversightofEnriquez's,"shesaidquietly,reenteringtheroomwithus;"andwasallthemorestrange,asthechildwasintheroomwithyouallthetime."

Shepointedtothecornerofthewall,wherehungwhatIhadbelievedtobeanoldIndianrelic.Tomyconsternation,itWASabark"papoose-case,"occupiedbyaLIVINGchild,swathedandbandagedaftertheapprovedIndianfashion.Itwasasleep,Ibelieve,butitopenedapairofbrighthuckleberryeyes,setinthesmallest of features, thatwere like those of a carved ivory idol, and uttered a"coo"at the soundof itsmother'svoice.She stoodonone sidewithunruffledcomposure,whileEnriquezthrewhimselfintoanattitudebeforeit,withclaspedhands, as if it had been an image of the Holy Child. For myself, I was tooastoundedtospeak;luckily,myconfusionwasattributedtotheinexperienceofabachelor.

"Ihaveadopted,"saidMrs.Saltillo,withthefaintesttouchofmaternalprideinher manner, "what I am convinced is the only natural and hygienic mode oftreatingthehumanchild.Itmaybesaidtobeareversiontotheaborigine,butIhave yet to learn that it is not superior to our civilized custom. By thesebandagesthelimbsoftheinfantarekeptinproperpositionuntiltheyarestrongenoughtosupportthebody,andsuchathingasmalformationisunknown.Itisprotected by its cradle, which takes the place of its incubating-shell, fromexternal injury, the injudiciouscoddlingofnurses, the so-called 'dancings' andpernicious rockings. The supine position, as in the adult, is imposed only at

night. By the aid of this strap it may be carried on long journeys, either bymyselforbyEnriquez,whothusshareswithme,ashefullyrecognizes,itsequalresponsibilityandburden."

"It—certainlydoesnot—cry,"Istammered.

"Crying,"saidMrs.Saltillo,withacurveofherprettyredlip."istheprotestofthechildagainstinsanitaryandartificialtreatment.Initsupright,unostentatiouscradle it is protected against that injudicious fondling and dangerouspromiscuous osculation to which, as an infant in human arms, it is so oftensubjected.Aboveall,itiskeptfromthatshamelessandmortifyingpublicitysounjusttotheweakandunformedanimal.Thechildrepaysthisconsiderationbyagratifyingsilence.Itcannotbeexpectedtounderstandourthoughts,speech,oractions; it cannot participate in our pleasures. Why should it be forced intopremature contact with them, merely to feed our vanity or selfishness? Whyshouldwe assume our particular parental accident as superior to the commonlot? If we do not give our offspring that prominence before our visitors socommontotheyoungwifeandhusband,itisforthatreasonsolely;andthismayaccount for what seemed the forgetfulness of Enriquez in speaking of it orpointing itout toyou.AndI thinkhisaction incallingyouback tosee itwassomewhat precipitate. As one does not usually introduce an unknown andinferiorstrangerwithoutsomepreviousintroduction,hemighthaveaskedyouifyouwishedtoseethebabybeforeherecalledyou."

I looked from Urania's unfathomable eyes to Enriquez's impenetrablecountenance.Imighthavebeenequaltoeitherofthemalone,buttogethertheywere invincible. I lookedhopelesslyat thebaby.With its sharp little eyesandcomposedface,itcertainlywasamarvelousminiatureofEnriquez.Isaidso.

"Itwouldbesingularifitwasnot,"saidMrs.Saltillodryly;"andasIbelieveitisby nomeans an uncommon fact in human nature, it seems tome strange thatpeopleshouldinsistuponitasadiscovery.Itisaninheritance,however,thatinduetimeprogressandsciencewillnodoubtinterrupt,totheadvancementofthehumanrace.IneednotsaythatbothEnriquezandmyselflookforwardtoitwithconfidenttranquillity."

Therewasclearlynothingformetodonowbuttoshakehandsagainandtakemy leave.Yet Iwas somuch impressedwith theunrealityof thewhole scenethatwhenIreachedthefrontdoorIhadastrongimpulsetoreturnsuddenlyand

fallinuponthemintheirrelaxedandnaturalattitudes.Theycouldnotkeepupthisposebetweenthemselves;andIhalfexpectedtoseetheirlaughingfacesatthewindow,asIglancedupbeforewendingmyperilouswaytothestreet.

I foundMrs.Saltillo'smanuscriptwellwrittenand, in thenarrativeparts,evengraphicandsparkling.Isuppressedsomegeneral remarksontheuniverse,andsome correlative theories of existence, as not appertaining particularly to theAztecs,andasnotmeetinganyunquenchablethirstforinformationonthepartof thereadersof the"DailyExcelsior." Ievenpromotedmyfaircontributor tothe position of having been commissioned, at great expense, to make theMexican journey especially for the "Excelsior." This, with Mrs. Saltillo'ssomewhatprecisepreraphaelitedrawingsandwater-colors,vilelyreproducedbywoodcuts, gave quite a sensational air to her production, which, divided intoparts,fortwoorthreedaysfilledawholepageofthepaper.Iamnotawareofany particular service that it did to ethnology; but, as I pointed out in theeditorialcolumn,itshowedthatthepeopleofCaliforniawerenotgivenoverbymaterial greed to the exclusion of intellectual research; and as itwas attackedinstantly in long communications from one or two scientific men, it thusproducedmorecopy.

Briefly, itwas a boom for the author and the "DailyExcelsior." I should add,however, that a rival newspaper intimated that it was also a boom for Mrs.Saitillo'sHUSBAND, and called attention to the fact that a desertedMexicanmine, known as "El Bolero," was described graphically in the Aztec articleamong the news, and again appeared in the advertising columns of the samepaper. I turned somewhat indignantly to the file of the "Excelsior," and,singularly enough, found in the elaborate prospectus of a new gold-miningcompany the description of the El Bolero mine as a QUOTATION from theAztecarticle,withextraordinaryinducementsfortheinvestmentofcapitalintheprojectedworkingofanoldmine.If Ihadhadanydifficulty inrecognizing inthe extravagant style the flamboyant hand of Enriquez in English writing, Imighthavereadhisnameplainlyenoughdisplayedaspresidentofthecompany.Itwasevidentlytheprospectusofoneoftheventureshehadshownme.Iwasmoreamused than indignantat the little trickhehadplayeduponmyeditorialastuteness.Afterall, if Ihad thusbenefited theyoungcoupleIwassatisfied. Ihadnotseenthemsincemyfirstvisit,asIwasverybusy,—mycommunicationswithMrs. Saltillo had been carried on by letters and proofs,—andwhen I didfinallycallattheirhouse,itwasonlytofindthattheywerevisitingatSanJose.Iwonderedwhether the babywas still hanging on thewall, or, if hewas taken

withthem,whocarriedhim.

A week later the stock of El Bolero was quoted at par. More than that, anincomprehensibleactivityhadbeengiventoallthedesertedMexicanmines,andpeoplebegantolookupscriphithertothrownasideasworthless.Whetheritwasoneof thoseextraordinaryfeverswhichattackedCalifornianspeculationintheearlydays,orwhetherEnriquezSaltillohad infected thestock-marketwithhisownextravagance,Ineverknew;butplansaswild,inventionsasfantastic,andargumentsasillogicalaseveremanatedfromhisownbrain,weresetforth"on'Change"withagravityequal tohisown.Themostreasonablehypothesiswasthatitwastheeffectofthewell-knownfactthattheSpanishCalifornianhithertohad not been a mining speculator, nor connected in any way with the goldproductiononhisnativesoil,deemingitinconsistentwithhispatriarchallifeandlanded dignity, and that when a "son of one of the oldest Spanish families,identifiedwiththelandanditspeculiarcharacterforcenturies,lenthimselftoitsmineralexploitations,"—IbegtosaythatIamquotingfromtheadvertisementinthe"Excelsior,"—"itwasaguerdonofsuccess."Thiswassofar truethat inaweekEnriquezSaltillowasrich,andinafairwaytobecomeamillionaire.

Itwas a hot afternoonwhen I alighted from the stiflingWingdam coach, andstoodupon thecool,deepverandaof theCarquinezSpringsHotel.After Ihadshakenoffthedustwhichhadlazilyfollowedus,inourdescentofthemountainroad,likearedsmoke,occasionallyoverflowingthecoachwindows,IwentuptotheroomIhadengagedformybriefholiday.Iknewtheplacewell,althoughIcouldsee that thehotel itselfhadlatelybeenredecoratedandenlargedtomeettheincreasingrequirementsoffashion.Iknewtheforestofenormousredwoodswhereonemightloseone'sselfinafiveminutes'walkfromtheveranda.Iknewtherockytrailthatclimbedthemountaintothesprings,twistingbetweengiantboulders. I knew the arid garden, deep in thewayside dust,with its hurriedlyplanted tropical plants, already withering in the dry autumn sunshine, andwashed intofictitiousfreshness,nightandmorningby thehydraulic irrigating-hose.Iknew,too,thecool,reposefulnightwindsthatsweptdownfrominvisiblesnow-crests beyond, with the hanging out of monstrous stars, that too oftenfailed to bring repose to the feverish guests. For the overstrained neuroticworkerswhofledhitherfromthebakingplainsofSacramento,orfromthechillsea-fogsofSanFrancisco,neverlostthefierceunrestthathaddriventhemhere.Unaccustomed to leisure, their enforced idleness impelled them to seekexcitement in thewildestgayeties; thebracingmountainaironly reinvigoratedthem to pursue pleasure as they had pursued the occupations they had left

behind.Theirsole recreationswere furiousdrivesoverbreak-neckroads;mad,scampering cavalcades through the sedate woods; gambling parties in privaterooms,wherelargesumswerelostbycapitalistsonleave;champagnesuppers;andimpromptuballsthatlastedthroughthecalm,reposefulnighttothefirstraysoflightonthedistantsnowline.Unimaginativemen,intheirtemporarysojournthey more often outraged or dispossessed nature in her own fastnesses thancourtedherforsympathyorsolitude.Therewereplaying-cardsleftlyingbehindboulders,andemptychampagnebottlesforgotteninforestdepths.

Irememberedallthiswhen,refreshedbyabath,Ileanedfromthebalconyofmyroom and watched the pulling up of a brake, drawn by six dusty, foam-bespattered horses, driven by a noted capitalist.As its hot, perspiring, closelyveiledyet burning-faced fair occupants descended, in all thedazzlinggloryofsummertoilets,andIsawthegentlemenconsulttheirwatcheswithsatisfaction,and congratulate their triumphant driver, I knew the characteristic excitementtheyhadenjoyedfroma"recordrun,"probablyforabet,overamountainroadinaburningsun.

"Notbad,eh?Forty-fourminutesfromthesummit!"

Thevoiceseemedatmyelbow.Iturnedquickly,torecognizeanacquaintance,ayoung San Francisco broker, leaning from the next balcony to mine. But myattention was just then preoccupied by the face and figure, which seemedfamiliartome,ofawomanwhowasalightingfromthebrake.

"Who is that?" I asked; "the straight slimwoman in gray,with thewhite veiltwistedroundherfelthat?"

"Mrs. Saltillo," he answered; "wife of 'El Bolero' Saltillo, don't you know.Mightyprettywoman,ifsheisalittlestiffishandsetup."

Then I had not beenmistaken! "Is Enriquez—is her husband—here?" I askedquickly.

Theman laughed."I reckonnot.This is theplace forotherpeople'shusbands,don'tyouknow."

Alas!IDIDknow;andasthereflasheduponmeallthemiserablescandalsandgossip connectedwith this reckless, frivolous caravansary, I felt like resentinghissuggestion.Butmycompanion'snextwordsweremoresignificant:—

"Besides,ifwhattheysayistrue,Saltillowouldn'tbeverypopularhere."

"Idon'tunderstand,"Isaidquickly.

"Why,afterallthatrowhehadwiththeElBoleroCompany."

"Ineverheardofanyrow,"Isaid,inastonishment.

Thebroker laughed incredulously. "Come! andYOUanewspaperman!Well,maybetheyDIDtrytohushitup,andkeepitoutofthepapers,onaccountofthestock.Butitseemshegotupareg'larshindywiththeboard,oneday;called'emthieves and swindlers, and allowed he was disgracing himself as a Spanishhidalgobyhavinganythingtodowith'em.Talked,theysay,aboutCharlesV.ofSpain,orsomeother royalgaloot,givinghisancestors the land in trust!Cleanoffhishead,Ireckon.Thenshuntedhimselfoffthecompany,andsoldout.Youcan guess hewouldn't be very popular around here, with JimBestley, there,"pointingtothecapitalistwhohaddriventhebrake,"whousedtobeontheboardwithhim.No,sir.Hewaseither lying lowforsomething,orwasoffhishead.Thinkofhisthrowingupaplacelikethat!"

"Nonsense!" I said indignantly. "He is mercurial, and has the quickimpulsivenessofhisrace,butIbelievehimassaneasanywhosatwithhimonthe board. Theremust be somemistake, or you haven't got thewhole story."Nevertheless, Ididnotcare todiscussanold friendwithamereacquaintance,andIfeltsecretlypuzzledtoaccountforhisconduct,inthefaceofhispreviousclevernessinmanipulatingtheElBolero,andtheundoubtedfascinationhehadpreviously exercised over the stockholders. The story had, of course, beengarbled in repetition. I hadneverbefore imaginedwhatmightbe the effect ofEnriquez'speculiareccentricitiesuponmatter-of-factpeople,—Ihadfoundthemonlyamusing,—andthebroker'ssuggestionannoyedme.However,Mrs.Saltillowashereinthehotel,andIshould,ofcourse,meether.Wouldshebeasfrankwithme?

Iwasdisappointedatnotfindingherinthedrawing-roomorontheveranda;andthe heat being still unusually oppressive, I strolled out toward the redwoods,hesitatingforamomentintheshadebeforeIranthefierygauntletofthegarden.Tomysurprise,IhadscarcelypassedthegiantsentinelsonitsoutskirtsbeforeIfound that, from some unusual condition of the atmosphere, the coldundercurrent of air which generally drew through these pillared aisles was

withheldthatafternoon;itwasabsolutelyhotterthanintheopen,andthewoodwascharged throughoutwith the acrid spicesof thepine. I turnedback to thehotel,reascendedtomybedroom,andthrewmyselfinanarmchairbytheopenwindow.Myroomwasneartheendofawing;thecornerroomattheendwasnext tomine,on the same landing. Its closeddoor, at rightangles tomyopenone, gave upon the staircase, but was plainly visible from where I sat. Irememberedbeinggladthatitwasshut,asitenabledmewithoutoffensetokeepmyowndooropen.

The housewas very quiet. The leaves of a catalpa, across the roadway, hungmotionless. Somebody yawned on the veranda below. I threw awaymy half-finishedcigar,andclosedmyeyes.IthinkIhadnotlostconsciousnessformorethana few secondsbefore Iwas awakenedby the shakingand thrillingof thewhole building. As I staggered to my feet, I saw the four pictures hangingagainstthewallswingoutwardlyfromitontheircords,andmydoorswingbackagainstthewall.Atthesamemoment,acteduponbythesamepotentialimpulse,thedooroftheendroominthehall,oppositethestairs,alsoswungopen.InthatbriefmomentIhadaglimpseoftheinterioroftheroom,oftwofigures,amanandawoman, the latterclingingtohercompanioninabject terror. Itwasonlyforaninstant,forasecondthrillpassedthroughthehouse,thepicturesclatteredbackagainst thewall, thedoorof theend roomclosedviolentlyon its strangerevelation, and my own door swung back also. Apprehensive of what mighthappen,Isprangtowardit,butonlytoarrest itaninchortwobeforeitshouldshut,when,asmyexperiencehadtaughtme,itmightstickbythesubsidenceofthewalls.Butitdidstickajar,andremainedfirmlyfixedinthatposition.Fromthe clattering of the knob of the other door, and the sound of hurried voicesbehind it, I knew that the same thing had happened therewhen that door hadfullyclosed.

Iwasfamiliarenoughwithearthquakestoknowthat,withthesecondshockorsubsidenceoftheearth,theimmediatedangerwaspassed,andsoIwasabletonotemoreclearlywhatelsewaspassing.Therewastheusualsuddenstampedeofhurrying feet, the solitaryoath and scream, thehalf-hysterical laughter, andsilence.Thenthetumultwasreawakenedtothesoundofhighvoices,talkingalltogether, or the impatient calling of absentees in halls and corridors. Then Iheardthequickswishoffemaleskirtsonthestaircase,andoneofthefairguestsknockedimpatientlyatthedooroftheendroom,still immovablyfixed.Atthefirstknocktherewasasuddencessationofthehurriedwhisperingsandturningofthedoorknob.

"Mrs.Saltillo,areyouthere?Areyoufrightened?"shecalled.

"Mrs.Saltillo"!ItwasSHE,then,whowasintheroom!Idrewnearermydoor,which was still fixed ajar. Presently a voice,—Mrs. Saltillo's voice,—with aconstrainedlaughinit,camefrombehindthedoor:"Notabit.I'llcomedowninaminute."

"Do,"persistedthewould-beintruder."It'sallovernow,butwe'reallgoingoutintothegarden;it'ssafer."

"All right," answered Mrs. Saltillo. "Don't wait, dear. I'll follow. Run away,now."

Thevisitor,whowasevidentlystillnervous,wasgladtohurryaway,andIheardherretreatingsteponthestaircase.Therattlingofthedoorbeganagain,andatlast itseemedtoyieldtoastrongerpull,andopenedsufficientlytoallowMrs.Saltillotosqueezethrough.Iwithdrewbehindmydoor.Ifanciedthatitcreakedas she passed, as if, noticing it ajar, she had laid an inquiring hand upon it. Iwaited,butshewasnotfollowedbyanyone.IwonderedifIhadbeenmistaken.Iwasgoingtothebell-ropetosummonassistancetomovemyowndoorwhenasudden instinctwithheldme. If therewas anyone still in that room,hemightcomefromitjustastheservantansweredmycall,andapublicdiscoverywouldbeunavoidable.Iwasright.Inanotherinstantthefigureofaman,whosefaceIcouldnotdiscern,slippedoutoftheroom,passedmydoor,andwentstealthilydownthestaircase.

Convincedofthis,Iresolvednottocallpublicattentiontomybeinginmyownroomatthetimeoftheincident;soIdidnotsummonanyone,but,redoublingmyefforts,Iatlastopenedthedoorsufficientlytopassout,andatoncejoinedthe other guests in the garden. Already, with characteristic recklessness andaudacity, the earthquake wasmade light of; the only dictate of prudence hadresolveditselfintoahilariousproposalto"campout"inthewoodsallnight,andhavea"torch-lightpicnic."Eventhenpreparationswerebeingmadeforcarryingtents,blankets,andpillowstotheadjacentredwoods;dinnerandsupper,cookedat campfires,were to be served there on stumps of trees and fallen logs. TheconvulsionofnaturehadbeenusedasanexcuseforoneofthewildestfreaksofextravagancethatCarquinezSpringshadeverknown.PerhapsthatquicksenseofhumorwhichdominatestheAmericanmaleinexigenciesofthiskindkepttheextravagances from being merely bizarre and grotesque, and it was presently

known that the hotel and its menage were to be appropriately burlesqued bysomeoftheguests,who,attiredasIndians,wouldpersonatethestaff,fromtheoracularhotelproprietorhimselfdowntothesmarthotelclerk.

During these arrangements I had a chance of drawing near Mrs. Saltillo. Ifanciedshegaveaslightstartassherecognizedme;buthergreetingsweregivenwithherusualprecision."Haveyoubeenherelong?"sheasked.

"Ihaveonlyjustcome,"Irepliedlaughingly;"intimefortheshock."

"Ah, you felt it, then? I was telling these ladies that our eminent geologist,ProfessorDobbs,assuredmethattheseseismicdisturbancesinCaliforniahaveaveryremotecentre,andareseldomserious."

"Itmustbeverysatisfactorytohavethesupportofgeologyatsuchamoment,"Icouldnothelpsaying,thoughIhadnottheslightestideawhosethefigurewasthat Ihadseen,nor, indeed,hadI recognized itamong theguests.Shedidnotseem to detect any significance in my speech, and I added: "And where isEnriquez?Hewouldenjoythisproposedpicnictonight."

"EnriquezisatSalvatierraRancho,whichhelatelyboughtfromhiscousin."

"Andthebaby?Surely,hereisachanceforyoutohanghimuponaredwoodtonight,inhiscradle."

"Theboy,"saidMrs.Saltilloquickly,"isnolongerinhiscradle;hehaspassedthepupastate,andisnowfreetodevelophisownperfectedlimbs.Heiswithhisfather. I do not approve of children being submitted to the indiscriminateattentionsofahotel.Iamheremyselfonlyforthatsupplyofozoneindicatedforbrainexhaustion."

Shelookedsoprettyandpriminhergraydress,solikeheroldcorrectself,thatIcouldnotthinkofanythingbuthermentalattitude,whichdidnot,bytheway,seem much like mental depression. Yet I was aware that I was getting noinformationofEnriquez'sconditionoraffairs,unlessthewholestorytoldbythebrokerwasanexaggeration.Ididnot,however,daretoaskmoreparticularly.

"YourememberProfessorDobbs?"sheaskedabruptly.

Thisrecalledasuspicionawakenedbymyvision,sosuddenlythatIfeltmyself

blushing.Shedidnotseemtonoticeit,andwasperfectlycomposed.

"Idorememberhim.Ishehere?"

"He is; that iswhatmakes it soparticularlyunfortunate forme.Yousee,afterthataffairoftheboard,andEnriquez'swithdrawal,althoughEnriquezmayhavebeenalittleprecipitateinhisenergeticway,Inaturallytookmyhusband'spartinpublic;foralthoughwepreserveourownindependenceinviolable,webelieveinabsoluteconfederationasagainstsociety."

"ButwhathasProfessorDobbstodowiththeboard?"Iinterrupted.

"The professor was scientific and geological adviser to the board, and it wasupon some report or suggestion of his that Enriquez took issue, against thesentimentoftheboard.ItwasaprincipleaffectingEnriquez'sSpanishsenseofhonor."

"Dotellmeallaboutit,"Isaideagerly;"Iamveryanxioustoknowthetruth."

"As Iwas not present at the time," saidMrs. Saltillo, rebukingmy eagernesswith a gentle frigidity, "I am unable to do so. Anything else would be merehearsay,andmoreorlessexparte.Idonotapproveofgossip."

"ButwhatdidEnriqueztellyou?Yousurelyknowthat."

"THAT, being purely confidential, as between husband andwife,— perhaps Ishould say partner and partner,—of course you do not expectme to disclose.EnoughthatIwassatisfiedwithit.Ishouldnothavespokentoyouaboutitatall, but that, through myself and Enriquez, you are an acquaintance of theprofessor's,and Imight saveyou theawkwardnessofpresentingyourselfwithhim.Otherwise, althoughyouare a friendofEnriquez, it neednot affectyouracquaintancewiththeprofessor."

"Hangtheprofessor!"Iejaculated."Idon'tcarearapforHIM."

"ThenIdifferwithyou,"saidMrs.Saltillo,withprecision."Heisdistinctlyanableman,andonecannotbutmissthecontactofhisoriginalmindandhisliberalteachings."

Hereshewasjoinedbyoneoftheladies,andIloungedaway.Idaresayitwas

verymeanandvery illogical,but theunsatisfactorycharacterof this interviewmademerevertagaintothesingularrevelationIhadseenafewhoursbefore.Ilooked anxiously for Professor Dobbs; but when I did meet him, with anindifferentnodofrecognition,IfoundIcouldbynomeansidentifyhimwiththefigureofhermysteriouscompanion.AndwhyshouldIsuspecthimatall,intheface ofMrs. Saltillo's confessed avoidance of him?Who, then, could it havebeen?Ihadseenthembutaninstant,intheopeningandtheshuttingofadoor.Itwasmerelytheshadowybulkofamanthatflittedpastmydoor,afterall.CouldI have imagined thewhole thing?Weremy perceptive faculties—just arousedfrom slumber, too insufficiently clear to be relied upon? Would I not havelaughedhadUrania,orevenEnriquezhimself,toldmesuchastory?

AsIreenteredthehoteltheclerkhandedmeatelegram."There'sbeenaprettybigshakealloverthecountry,"hesaideagerly."Everybodyisgettingnewsandinquiriesfromtheirfriends.Anythingfresh?"HepausedinterrogativelyasItoreopen the envelope. The dispatch had been redirected from the office of the"Daily Excelsior." It was dated, "Salvatierra Rancho," and contained a singleline:"Comeandseeyourolduncle'Ennery."

There was nothing in the wording of the message that was unlike Enriquez'susuallight-heartedlevity,butthefactthatheshouldhaveTELEGRAPHEDittomestruckmeuneasily.ThatIshouldhavereceiveditatthehotelwherehiswifeand ProfessorDobbswere both staying, andwhere I had had such a singularexperience, seemed tomemore than amere coincidence.An instinct that themessage was something personal to Enriquez and myself kept me fromimpartingittoMrs.Saltillo.Afterworryinghalfthenightinourbizarrecampintheredwoods,inthemidstofarestlessfestivitywhichwasscarcelythereposeIhad been seeking at Carquinez Springs, I resolved to leave the next day forSalvatierra Rancho. I remembered the rancho,—a low, golden-brown, adobe-walled quadrangle, sleeping like somemonstrous ruminant in a hollow of theContraCostaRange.Irecalled,inthemidstofthisnoisypicnic,theslumberouscoolnessof its longcorridorsandsoundlesscourtyard,andhaileditasarelief.Thetelegramwasasufficientexcuseformyabruptdeparture.InthemorningIleft,butwithoutagainseeingeitherMrs.Saltilloortheprofessor.

It was late the next afternoonwhen I rode through the canada that led to therancho. I confessmy thoughtswere somewhat gloomy, in spite ofmy escapefromthenoisyhotel;butthiswasduetothesombrescenerythroughwhichIhadjust ridden, and the monotonous russet of the leagues of wild oats. As I

approachedtherancho,IsawthatEnriquezhadmadenoattempt tomodernizetheoldcasa,andthateventhegardenwasleft in its lawlessnative luxuriance,while the rude tiled sheds near the walled corral contained the old farmingimplements,unchangedforacentury,eventotheox-carts,thewheelsofwhichweremadeofasingleblockofwood.Afewpeons,instripedshirtsandvelvetjackets, were sunning themselves against a wall, and near them hung a half-drained pellejo, or goatskin water-bag. The air of absolute shiftlessness musthavebeenrepellenttoMrs.Saltillo'sorderlyprecision,andforamomentIpitiedher. But it was equally inconsistent with Enriquez's enthusiastic ideas ofAmericanprogress,andtheextravagantdesignshehadoftenimpartedtomeoftheimprovementshewouldmakewhenhehadafortune.Iwasfeelinguneasyagain,when I suddenlyheard the rapidclackofunshodhoofsona rocky trailthat joined my own. At the same instant a horseman dashed past me at fullspeed.Ihadbarelytimetoswervemyownhorseasidetoavoidacollision,yetinthatbriefmomentIrecognizedthefigureofEnriquez.ButhisfaceIshouldhave scarcely known. It was hard and fixed. His upper lip and thin, penciledmustacheweredrawnupoverhisteeth,whichwerelikeawhitegashinhisdarkface.He turned into the courtyardof the rancho. I put spurs tomyhorse, andfollowed, innervousexpectation.He turned inhis saddleas Ientered.But thenextmomentheboundedfromhishorse,and,beforeIcoulddismount,flewtomysideandabsolutelyliftedmefromthesaddletoembraceme.ItwastheoldEnriquezagain;hisfaceseemedtohaveutterlychangedinthatbriefmoment.

"Thisisallverywell,oldchap,"Isaid;"butdoyouknowthatyounearlyranmedown,justnow,withthatinfernalhalf-brokenmustang?Doyouusuallychargethecasaatthatspeed?"

"Pardon, my leetle brother! But here you shall slip up. The mustang is notHALF-broken;heisnotbrokeatall!Lookathishoof—neverhaveashoebeenthere.Formyself—attendme!WhenI ridealone, I thinkmooch;whenI thinkmoochIthinkfast;myideahegolikeacannon-ball!Consequent, ifIridenottheeshorselikethecannon-ball,mythoughtHEarrivefirst,andwhereareyou?Yougetleft!BelievemethatIflytheeshorse,theesoldMexicanplug,andyourde' uncle 'Ennery and his leetle old idea arrive all the same time, and on theinstant."

It WAS the old Enriquez! I perfectly understood his extravagant speech andillustration,andyetforthefirsttimeIwonderedifothersdid.

"Tak'-a-drink!"hesaid,allinoneword."YoushallpossesstheoldBourbonortherhumfromtheSantaCruz!Nameyourpoison,gentlemen!"

Hehadalreadydraggedmeupthestepsfromthepatiototheveranda,andseatedmebeforea small round table still coveredwith thechocolateequipageof themorning. A little dried-up old Indian woman took it away, and brought thespiritsandglasses.

"Mirar the leetle old one!" said Enriquez,with unflinching gravity. "Considerher, Pancho, to the bloosh! She is not truly anAztec, but she is of years onehundred and one, and LIFS! Possibly she haf not the beauty which ravishes,which devastates. But she shall attent you to the hotwater, to the bath. Thusshallyoubeprotect,myleetlebrother,fromscandal."

"Enriquez,"Iburstoutsuddenly,"tellmeaboutyourself.WhydidyouleavetheElBoleroboard?Whatwastherowabout?"

Enriquez'seyesforamomentglittered;thentheydancedasbefore.

"Ah,"hesaid,"youhaveheard?"

"Something;butIwanttoknowthetruthfromyou."

Helightedacigarette,liftedhimselfbackwardintoagrasshammock,onwhichhe sat, swinging his feet. Then, pointing to another hammock, he said:"Tranquillizeyourselfthere.Iwillrelate;but,truly,iteesnothing."

He tooka longpull athis cigarette, and fora fewmoments seemedquietly toexude smoke from his eyes, ears, nose, even his finger-ends—everywhere, infact,buthismouth.Thatandhismustacheremainedfixed.Thenhesaidslowly,flickingawaytheasheswithhislittlefinger:—

"First you understand, friend Pancho, that Imake no row. The other themselfmake the row, the shindig. They make the dance, the howl, the snap of thefinger,theoath,the'Helenblazes,'the'Wotthedevil,'the'Thatbed—d,'thebadlanguage; they themselves finger the revolver, advance thebowie-knife, throwoff thecoat, squareoff,andsay 'Comeon.' I remainasyouseemenow, littlebrother—tranquil." He lighted another cigarette, made his position morecomfortable in the hammock, and resumed: "TheProfessorDobbs,who is thegeologianofthecompany,madeareportforwhichhegottwothousanddollar.

Buttheesreport—lookyou,friendPancho—heisnotgoodforthemine.ForintheholeinthegroundtheProfessorDobbshavefounda'hoss.'"

"Awhat?"Iasked.

"Ahoss," repeatedEnriquez,with infinitegravity. "Butnot, leetlePancho, thehoss that run, the hoss that buck-jump, but what the miner call a 'hoss,' asomethingthatrearupintheveinandstophim.Youpickaroundthehoss;youpickunderhim;sometimesyoufindthevein,sometimesyoudonot.Thehossrear up, and remain!Eet ees not good for themine.The board say, 'D—- thehoss!''Getridofthehoss.''Chuckoutthehoss.'Thentheytalktogether,andonesay to theProfessorDobbs: 'Eefyoucannot theeshossremovefromthemine,youcantakehimoutofthereport.'Helooktome,theesprofessor.Iseenothing;Iremaintranquil.Thentheboardsay:'Theesreportwiththehossinhimisworthtwothousanddollar,butWITHOUTthehosshe isworthfive thousanddollar.For the stockholder is frightedof the rearinghoss. It is of anecessity that thestockholder should remain tranquil. Without the hoss the report is good; thestockshallerrise;thedirectorshallsellout,andleavethestockholderthehosstoplaywith.'Theprofessorhesay,'Alright;'hescratchoutthehoss,signhisname,andgetacheckforthreethousanddollar."

"Then I errise—so!" He got up from the hammock, suiting the action to theword,andduringtherestofhisnarrative,Ihonestlybelieve,assumedthesameattitude and deliberate intonation he had exhibited at the board. I could evenfancy I saw the reckless,cynical facesofhisbrotherdirectors turneduponhisgrim, impassive features. "I am tranquil. I smokemy cigarette. I say that forthreehundredyearmyfamilyhaveheldthelandoftheesmine;thatitpassfromfather to son, and from son to son; it pass by gift, it pass by grant, but thatNEVARRETHEREPASSALIEWITH IT! I say itwas a gift by a SpanishChristiankingtoaChristianhidalgoforthespreadofthegospel,andnotforthecheatandtheswindle!Isaythatthisminewasworkedbytheslave,andbythemule, by the ass, but never by the cheat and swindler. I say that if they havestruckthehossinthemine,theyhavestruckahossINTHELAND,aSpanishhoss;ahoss thathavenobridleworthfive thousanddollar inhismouth,butahoss to rear, andahoss that cannotbe struckoutbyaYankeegeologian; andthathossisEnriquezSaltillo!"

Hepaused,andlaidasidehiscigarette.

"Then theysay, 'Dryup,'and 'Sellout;'and thegreatbankerssay, 'Nameyourownprice foryour stock, and resign.'And I say, 'There isnot enoughgold inyour bank, in your SanFrancisco, in themines ofCalifornia, that shall buy aSpanishgentleman.WhenI leave, I leave thestockatmyback; Ishall take it,nevarre!Then the banker he say, 'And youwill go and blab, I suppose?'Andthen,Pancho,Ismile,Ipickupmymustache—so!andIsay:'Pardon,senor,youhafmistake,TheSaltillohafforthreehundredyearnostain,noblotuponhim.Eetisnotnow—thelastoftherace—whoshallconfessthathehafsitataboardof disgrace and dishonor!'And then it is that the band begin to play, and theanimalsstandontheirhindlegandwaltz,andbehold,therowhehafbegin!"

Iranovertohim,andfairlyhuggedhim.Butheputmeasidewithagentleandphilosophicalcalm."Ah,eetisnothing,Pancho.Itis,believeme,allthesameahundredyears tocome,andwhereareyou, then?Theearthheturnround,andthencomeel temblor, theearthquake,andthereyouare!Bah!eet isnotof theboardthatIhaveaskedyoutocome; it issomethingelseIwouldtellyou.Goandwashyourselfoftheesjourney,myleetlebrother,asIhave"—lookingathisnarrow,brown,well-bredhands—"washmyselfoftheboard.Beverycarefuloftheleetleoldwoman,Pancho;donotwinktoheroftheeye!Consider,myleetlebrother,foronehundredandoneyearhehafbeenasanun,asaint!Disturbnothertranquillity."

Yes,itwastheoldEnriquez;butheseemedgraver,—ifIcouldusethatwordofoneofsuchpersistentgravity;onlyhisgravityheretoforehadsuggestedacertainirony rather thanamelancholywhich Inowfancied Idetected.Andwhatwasthis"somethingelse"hewasto"tellmelater"?DiditrefertoMrs.Saltillo?Ihadpurposelywaited for him to speakof her, before I should say anythingofmyvisit to Carquinez Springs. I hurried through my ablutions in the hot water,broughtinabronzejarontheheadofthecentenarianhandmaid;andevenwhileI was smiling over Enriquez's caution regarding this aged Ruth, I felt I wasgettingnervoustohearhisnews.

I found him in his sitting-room, or study,—a long, low apartmentwith small,deepwindowslikeembrasuresintheouteradobewall,butglazedinlightlyupontheveranda.Hewassittingquiteabstractedly,withapeninhishand,beforeatable,onwhichanumberofsealedenvelopeswerelying.HelookedSOformalandmethodicalforEnriquez.

"Youliketheoldcasa,Pancho?"hesaidinreplytomypraiseofitsstudiousand

monasticgloom."Well,myleetlebrother,somedaythatisfair—whoknows?—itmaybeatyourdisposicion;notofourpoliteness,butofatruth,friendPancho.For, ifI leaveit tomywife"—itwasthefirst timehehadspokenofher—"formyleetlechild,"headdedquickly,"Ishallputinabond,anobligacion,thatmyfriendPanchoshallcomeandgoashewill."

"TheSaltillos are a long-lived race," I laughed. "I shall be agray-hairedman,withahouseandfamilyofmyownbythattime."ButIdidnotlikethewayhehadspoken.

"Quien sabe?" he only said, dismissing the questionwith the national gesture.Afteramomentheadded:"Ishalltellyousomethingthatisstrrange,sostrrangethatyoushallsay,likethebankersay, 'TheesEnriquez,heeesoffhishead;heeesacrank,alunatico;'butiteesaFACT;believeme,Ihavesaid!"

He rose,and,going to theendof the room,openedadoor. It showedaprettylittleroom,femininelyarrangedinMrs.Saltillo'srefinedtaste."Eetispretty;eetistheroomofmywife.Bueno!attendmenow."Heclosedthedoor,andwalkedbacktothetable."Ihavesithereandwritewhentheearthquakearrive.Ihavefeeltheshock,thegrindofthewallsonthemselves,thetremor,thestagger,and—that—door—heswingopen!"

"Thedoor?"Isaid,withasmilethatIfeltwasghastly.

"Comprehendme,"hesaidquickly; "it eesnotTHATwhichees strrange.Thewalllift,thelockslip,thedoorhefellopen;itisfrequent;itcomessoeverwhenthe earthquake come. But eet is not my wife's room I see; it is ANOTHERROOM, a room I know not.MywifeUrania, she stand there, of a fear, of atremble;shegrasp,sheclingtosomeone.Theearthshakeagain;thedoorshut.Ijump from my table; I shake and tumble to the door. I fling him open.Maravilloso!itistheroomofmywifeagain.SheisNOTthere;itisempty;itisnothing!"

I felt myself turning hot and cold by turns. I was horrified, and— and Iblundered."Andwhowastheotherfigure?"Igasped.

"Who?" repeated Enriquez, with a pause, a fixed look at me, and a sublimegesture."WhoSHOULDitbe,butmyself,EnriquezSaltillo?"

Aterriblepremonitionthat thiswasachivalrousLIE, that itwasNOThimself

hehadseen,butthatourtwovisionswereidentical,cameuponme."Afterall,"Isaid,with a fixed smile, "if you could imagine you sawyourwife, you couldeasilyimagineyousawyourselftoo.IntheshockofthemomentyouthoughtofHERnaturally,for thenshewouldasnaturallyseekyourprotection.Youhavewrittenfornewsofher?"

"No,"saidEnriquezquietly.

"No?"Irepeatedamazedly.

"Youunderstand,Pancho!Eefitwasthetrickofmyeyes,whyshouldIaffrightherforthethingthatisnot?Ifitisthetruth,anditarrivetoME,asawarning,whyshallIaffrightherbeforeitcome?"

"BeforeWHATcomes?Whatisitawarningof?"Iaskedimpetuously.

"Thatweshallbeseparated!ThatIgo,andshedonot."

Tomysurprise,hisdancingeyeshadaslightfilmoverthem."Idon'tunderstandyou,"Isaidawkwardly.

"Yourheadisnotofa level,myPancho.Theesearthquakeheremainforonlytenseconds,andheflingopenthedoor.Ifheremainfortwentyseconds,heflingopenthewall,thehoosetoomble,andyourfriendEnriquezisfeenish."

"Nonsense!" I said. "Professor—Imean the geologists—say that the centre ofdisturbance of these Californian earthquakes is some far-away point in thePacificandthereneverwillbeanyseriousconvulsionshere."

"Ah,thegeologist,"saidEnriquezgravely,"understandthehossthatrearinthemine, and the five thousanddollar, believeme,nomore.Hehaf lifhere threeyear. My family haf lif here three hundred. My grandfather saw the earthswallowthechurchofSanJuanBaptista."

I laughed, until, looking up, I was shocked to see for the first time that hisdancing eyesweremoist and shining.But almost instantly he jumped up, anddeclared that I hadnot seen thegarden and the corral, and, linkinghis arm inmine,sweptmelikeawhirlwindintothepatio.Foranhourortwohewasinhisold invincible spirits. I was glad I had said nothing ofmy visit to CarquinezSpringsandofseeinghiswife;Ideterminedtoavoiditaslongaspossible;and

ashedidnotagainrefertoher,exceptinthepast,itwasnotdifficult.Atlastheinfectedmewithhisextravagance,andforawhileIforgoteventhestrangenessofhisconductandhisconfidences.Wewalkedandtalkedtogetherasofold.Iunderstoodandenjoyedhimperfectly, and itwasnot strange that in theend Ibegantobelievethatthisstrangerevelationwasabitofhisextravagantacting,gotuptoamuseme.Thecoincidenceofhisstorywithmyownexperiencewasnot, after all, such a wonderful thing, considering what must have been thenervousandmentaldisturbanceproducedbytheearthquake.Wedinedtogether,attendedonlybyPedro,anoldhalf-castebody-servant. Itwaseasy to see thatthehouseholdwas carriedon economically, and, fromawordor twocasuallydroppedbyEnriquez,itappearedthattheranchoandasmallsumofmoneywereallthatheretainedfromhisformerfortunewhenhelefttheElBolero.Thestockhe kept intact, refusing to take the dividend upon it until that collapse of thecompany should occur which he confidently predicted, when he would makegoodtheswindledstockholders.Ihadnoreasontodoubthisperfectfaithinthis.

The nextmorningwewere up early for a breezy gallop over the three squaremiles ofEnriquez's estate. Iwas astounded,when I descended to the patio, tofindEnriquezalreadymounted,andcarryingbeforehim,astrideof thehornofhissaddle,asmallchild,—theidenticalpapooseofmymemorablefirstvisit.Buttheboywasnolongerswathedandbandaged,although,forsecurity,hisplumplittlebodywasengirtbythesamesashthatencircledhisfather'sownwaist.Ifeltastirringofself-reproach;Ihadforgottenallabouthim!Tomysuggestionthattheexercisemightbefatiguingtohim,Enriquezshruggedhisshoulders:—

"Believeme, no!He is everwithmewhen I go on the pasear.He is not tooyonge.Forheshalllearn 'torride,toshoot,andtospeakthetruth,'evenasthePersianchile.EeteesallIcangiftohim."

Nevertheless, I think theboyenjoyed it, and Iknewhewas safewith suchanaccomplishedhorsemanashisfather.Indeed,itwasafinesighttoseethembothcareeringover thebroadplain,Enriquezwith jinglingspursandwhirlingriata,andtheboy,withafaceascomposedashisfather's,andhistinyhandgraspingtheendoftheflappingreinwithatouchscarcelylighterthantheskillfulrider'sown.Itwasalovelymorning;thoughwarmandstill,therewasafainthaze—arare thing in that climate—on the distant range. The sun-baked soil, arid andthirstyfromthelongsummerdrought,andcrackedintolongfissures,brokeintopuffs of dust,with a slight detonation like a pistol-shot, at each stroke of ourpounding hoofs. Suddenly my horse swerved in full gallop, almost lost his

footing, "broke," and halted with braced fore feet, trembling in every limb. IheardashoutfromEnriquezatthesameinstant,andsawthathetoohadhaltedaboutahundredpacesfromme,withhishandupliftedinwarning,andbetweenus a long chasm in the dry earth, extending across the whole field. But thetrembling of the horse continued until it communicated itself to me. I wasshaking,too,and,lookingaboutforthecause,whenIbeheldthemostweirdandremarkablespectacleIhadeverwitnessed.Thewholellano,orplain,stretchingto thehorizon-line,wasDISTINCTLYUNDULATING!The faint hazeof thehillswas repeatedover its surface, as if adusthadarisen fromsomegrindingdisplacement of the soil. I threwmyself frommy horse, but the nextmomentwasfaintoclingtohim,asIfeltthethrillundermyveryfeet.Thentherewasapause,and I liftedmyhead to look forEnriquez.Hewasnowhere tobeseen!Withaterriblerecollectionofthefissurethathadyawnedbetweenus,Isprangtothesaddleagain,andspurredthefrightenedbeasttowardthatpoint.BUTITWAS GONE, TOO! I rode backward and forward repeatedly along the linewhere I had seen it only a moment before. The plain lay compact anduninterrupted, without a crack or fissure. The dusty haze that had arisen hadpassedasmysteriouslyaway; theclearoutlineof thevalleyreturned; thegreatfieldwasempty!

Presently I was aware of the sound of galloping hoofs. I remembered then—what I had at first forgotten—that a few moments before we had crossed anarroyo, or dried bed of a stream, depressed below the level of the field.Howfoolish that I hadnot remembered!Hehad evidently sought that refuge; therewere his returning hoofs. I galloped toward it, but only to meet a frightenedvaquero,whohadtakenthatavenueofescapetotherancho.

"DidyouseeDonEnriquez?"Iaskedimpatiently.

I saw that the man's terror was extreme, and his eyes were staring in theirsockets.Hehastilycrossedhimself:—

"Ah,God,yes!"

"Whereishe?"Idemanded.

"Gone!"

"Where?"

Helookedatmewithstaring,vacanteyes,and,pointingto theground,said inSpanish:"Hehasreturnedtothelandofhisfathers!"

Wesearchedforhimthatdayandthenext,whenthecountrywasarousedandhisneighborsjoinedinaquestthatproveduseless.Neitherhenorhisinnocentburdenwaseverseenagainofmen.Whetherhehadbeenengulfedbymischancein someunsuspectedyawningchasm in thatbriefmoment,orhad fulfilledhisownprophecybydeliberatelyerasinghimselfforsomepurposeknownonlytohimself, no one ever knew.His country-people shook their heads and said "itwaslikeaSaltillo."Andthefewamonghisretainerswhoknewhimandlovedhim,whisperedstillmoreominously:"HewillyetreturntohislandtoconfoundtheAmericanos."

Yet the widow of Enriquez did NOT marry Professor Dobbs. But she toodisappeared fromCalifornia, andyears afterward Iwas told that shewaswellknown to the ingenuous Parisians as the usual wealthy widow "from SouthAmerica."